


retention of virtue

by bleakmidwinter



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Drifting, Herc Hansen - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Interrogation, Liwen/Reyes (Mentioned), M/M, Possession, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Precursors, Recovery, Slow Burn, gay romance saves the day, that's later, this is hermann saving newton from himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-04-13 21:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14121534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleakmidwinter/pseuds/bleakmidwinter
Summary: Hermann has sessions with Precursor-Possessed Newton every day and tries to save him from being buried forever under the nefarious kaiju influence. As the person closest to Newton, intimately, Hermann is the only one for the job.





	1. Prologue

"If I could just have, I don't know, five minutes with him, sir, I swear to you on my own life that I could bring him around. I-"

"Gottlieb, I understand your concerns," Jake says in the most patient manner he can muster, "he's been a friend of yours for 20 years, trust me I get it, mate. But, he choked you to near death. You're one of our biggest assets on this mission, I can't have any risk. You go to him while he's caged, and you have four armed men beside you at all times, no argument. And your visit is scheduled."

Hermann bites his bottom lip. He wants to say more, hell, he could spout _worlds_ more about how Stacker Pentecost would have taken dangerous risks to get what he wanted, how it took more than just a few bends of protocol to save the world, to save human beings. And it was going to take a hell of a lot more than drone-like guards mindlessly throwing out protocol questions at the precursors to goad them into talking.

Jake Pentecost had mentioned many times that Hermann's own, well, _intimate_ connection to Newton was also dangerous. Any bias might ruin their chance of wringing out important information from the precursors. Hermann recognizes that concern, and he agrees with it logically; the reason he wants to speak to Newt alone, alone and uncaged, is because he knows he can reach _his_ Newt.

He felt wrong thinking of Newton as his. He always had felt wrong, about the way he _felt_. He knew it was deeper than a platonic affection, the yearning he felt for his friend. There were times where he even despised the word _friend_. He and Newt had shared more than that, they knew each other _more_ than that.

"Earth to Gottlieb," Jake chides, pursing his lips just so in front of Hermann who was getting caught in his own head again.

"Pardon?" Hermann whispers.

"I said, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Hermann finds himself saying before he can truly think. Newton had always made fun of him for following orders blindly, being a lapdog. Mostly, he just delighted in avoiding conflict. Saying yes was a bloody good option most of the time if you wanted to keep a stable reputation, and keep your job.

Hermann grips his cane tightly and finds his footing, turning on his heel and walking out of Pentecost's office, silently begging for a miracle. Perhaps next week would be different, or the week after that. _Perhaps one of these days you'll escape, and I'll have a better chance of saving you myself,_ he thinks briefly _._

Hermann knew the intentions of the PPDC. He knew they had no motivation to release Newton from his undeserving prison. They want information, they are thriving for intergalactic war.

 _A war to gain peace?_ Hermann scoffs as the thought skips across his mind like something tasting bitter. If the PPDC was so worried about peace and tranquility they'd be pulling their efforts in other directions, saving lives instead of planning to take more.

He slows as he always does, in front of the door. The big, giant, metal door. The intimidating, and tempting, and horrible _bloody_ door that behind it holds the only man that Hermann truly cares about. The fingers of his free hand twiddle around below his belt, just above his pocket as they always do.

The PPDC trusts him. They'd gifted him an all-access PPDC card years prior, and if he were to use it to enter the most vital sector of the entire base, he would most likely get his card revoked and handed back a cafeteria-only access card. The more he pondered the consequences the more often he usually started to walk away. There were only so many times Pentecost could say no, eventually, he would say yes. He would let Hermann see him alone.

And yet, it had been weeks.

Hermann strokes the door for a moment, almost hoping Newton will feel his warmth and his promises from the other side, from beneath the precursors. He prays for their residual drift connection to still be intact, in some respect.

He feels something he's never felt in front of this door before. A small reverberation in his mind, evident and blindingly in agony, and he can feel it like a call for help.

Hermann doesn't think, he doesn't question the feeling. He digs into his pocket and swipes his card. The doors open faster than he expects them to and he's hit with a wave of cold and the air feels damp and almost humid. He does a double take down the hall and prays the security guards watching the cameras are slacking off, before taking one stride into the room, the door locking behind him.

He tucks the card into his back pocket and allows his eyes to wander nervously up to where Newt is strapped down, behind a glass cage, dried blood around his eyes, his breathing deep and heavy.

His shirt is ripped only slightly and Hermann swallows, feeling something unusual stir low in his belly, so he ignores it and finds himself unable to move beyond where his feet are planted.

"Not what you expected?" Newton, the _Precursors_ , break the silence.

Hermann doesn't respond, and he momentarily feels ill.

"Did you expect, hi Hermann! It's been such a long-time buddy, I'm back to normal, we can leave and go save the world together!" He sounds like himself, and it's different from the first time Hermann saw him like this. The first time there was high tension, strenuous heartache, and a strong desire to end Newton's pain.

Now that he was strapped down, harmless, merely someone to mock Hermann over his loss, he feels a small boost of confidence.

"I did not come here for you. I came here for him," Hermann says softly, in the voice he knows Newton likes. The one where he could get Newton to turn in on a long night at work, the one that knows how to calm him down and tell him it's going to be okay when he's having a bad day mentally.

He hopes Newton can hear it.

He knows he can.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, Herms. That ain't gonna happen." The precursor leans it's head back against the seat it's strapped to, looking blankly at the wall in front of it. It was unusually quiet. Jake had allowed Hermann to watch a few of the interrogation tapes, and usually he was screeching loud and defiant, straining against his binds, vowing imminent world destruction.

Hermann wonders briefly if he had exhausted himself. He now lays there chewing at the inside of his lips mindlessly. It was a habit of Newton's, most likely leaking into this form of him from beneath the precursor's dominant influence.

That was a sign he was still in there.

The apology Newt had given Hermann weeks prior while choking him, saying "they're in my head" had haunted Hermann night after night. He woke up from nightmares, those words repeated over and over, seared into his brain. He knew Newt was trying his best, even after ten years, he was working so desperately to gain control.

Perhaps now that the precursors no longer have the upper hand, it would be easier to break their barriers.

"Newton Geiszler, I will not leave here until you face me. You more than anyone else in this world knows of my tenacious nature. This is not a bluff nor is it a threat. I want..."

The Precursors' eyes watch him wearily, narrowed, and blue. They weren't his eyes.

"I want him."

Newt's body twitches and his eyes flutter shut for a moment, neck craning in various directions as if the Precursor's were trying to expel something from their mind.

"Get out," it whispers.

"Newton," Hermann repeats, harshly. "Newton, please, listen to me."

It growls and yells, "Get out!" An alien voice joining with Newton's own. Hermann flinches and blinks a few times before regaining his composure.

"I will not."

The Precursor's eyes stare back at him, animosity deeply seated there.

"You heard me the first time, you, _you cretin!_ "

Something softens in the Precursor's expression, and his lips curl upwards a little bit, almost reminiscent of a familiar smile that once graced their labs late at night in the Shatterdome, during the war. Hermann falters when he hears the his voice, sounding so close to the real Newton.

"You stubborn, weird, little, dude."

Hermann is about to keep pushing, he's onto something, he has the Precursors where he wants them, weakened and breaking under pressure. He can sense Newton. He only needs to find the right words, the right touch...

Hermann walks up to the clear cage surrounding him, pressing a hand to the glass, reveling in the minuscule strain of Newton's body against his binds as he seems to subconsciously yearn to move into Hermann's grasp.

Newton looks desperate. Hermann wonders how much of the real him has found its way to the surface.

Before he can unlock the glass cage, a blaring alarm startles him, the doors to the interrogation room fly open, and men in military suits hustle in. Hermann drops his cane, and as he's being manhandled out of the room, he twists his head to look back at Newton.

There is a blank expression and a soft gleam in his eyes. He doesn’t look happy, or afraid, or sad, but his lips are parted as if he wants to call out after Hermann.

"Damn you!" Hermann yells when the door closes, and locks, and he's set down in front of Jake and a few other PPDC officials. "I _bloody_ had him! I had him!" Hermann rears forward to push weakly at Jake's chest, but he's weak from the emotional strain. He's weak from waking up every morning knowing Newton is trapped inside a _monster_.

Knowing he's doing nothing to stop it. He'd lose his job if he must, his reputation. He would do everything to go back inside that room and bring Newton back to the edge of redemption.

He didn’t notice his own breathing, high-pitched, strangled, and Jake's hand is on his shoulder to steady him, urging Hermann to look up.

He does, taking in one long shaky breath.

"I know. I know you did. When I heard you were in the room alone I called the guards, but then I watched the footage while they were on their way. And his reactions were entirely different when you were in the room. He didn't want you there. He knows you're a threat to him. I apologize what I said today, you actually may be the most important ally in this particular project."

Hermann blinks, fingers stretching in mid-air, not being able to find his footing without his cane. "You...pardon?"

Jake smiles, tightening his grip on Hermann's shoulder. "From now on I want you to have daily sessions with Newton Geiszler alone in his current state and see what you can do about releasing him from the control of the Precursors."

"Why the sudden change, sir?" Hermann asks, bewilderment clouding his thoughts.

"Again, Gottlieb, I think you're the only person that could possibly create a dent in whatever," he waves aimlessly to the metal door, "whatever that _thing_ is."

Hermann stares and he elaborates.

"You've been bugging me about this for weeks, mate. I've been thinking about it and talking it over with a few colleagues. I'm sorry for the forceful removal with the guards but I'd already called them, so it was sort of too late. But, after what I saw on the footage just now? I think it's safe to say you've done a damn good job at convincing me of your capability."

Hermann smiles apprehensively, unbelieving and yet hopeful.

"Every day at noon, for an hour, that's all you'll get. You will be monitored, but, you are allowed to go in alone, that is if you still want to. I've had men tell me, five minutes alone near those precursors were enough to give em' nightmares," Jake explains, looking ponderously to the metal doors again.

"I already possess nightmares," Hermann says plainly, "I wish to go alone. I do believe the effect will be more sufficient."

Jake nods once, and Hermann feels an abrupt rush of respect for him. Hermann owed him a debt now, and he would never forget this.

"Welcome to Operation: Recover Newton Geiszler, Mr. Gottlieb," Jake says with a smile. "You are the head of this mission. Do not disappoint me. I will send you official regulations later tonight."


	2. Day One

The warmth of the water sears his cool skin, and he allows it to wash over his shoulders and down to his toes, forgetting reality for a moment as he silently drowns in the heat and the pressure.

 

Hermann was a simple man. Showers were the more favorable part of the day for him. Newton would always tease him for taking nearly hour long showers, spending too much time styling his hair afterwards. “Your hair is already cursed, dude. There’s no saving it,” Newton would say after throwing a kaiju intestine. But, it never deterred Hermann from his love of bathing. It was the cleansing comfort of the process. It soothed Hermann’s leg, it made him feel fresh, and it helped him forget any troubles that were prodding at his train of thought, as if the steam were fogging his memories.

 

He likes getting out of the shower just as much as he likes getting in until he turns to see himself in the mirror in the bathroom and is reminded of his leg, and his entire body. Then it was back to self-loathing and  _ fake _ -loathing Newton, that’s how it was back at the Shatterdome anyhow.

 

Hermann had found that after Newton’s absence post-war, he had ceased taking a shower every day, and took one every other day, and sometimes he would forget to take one for two whole days. He’d get dirty from his work, chalk covering his fingers, but there was an empty feeling of walking out of the shower, dressing, and then going back to the lonely space in the lab, or in his desolate office where there was only the noise of the rattling printer. 

 

There was no one there to berate him for his messy and curled towel-hair, and there was no one who would breathe life into his bones with just a few endearing words like Newton had always been able to.

 

There was the warmth of the water, and then there was the cold and nothing else. Ten years as it had been, Hermann had never gotten used to it. That was  until... today. He felt like he was showering for the first time in years, his stomach was in knots in the best possible way, and for once he had a chance of reuniting with Newton after ten years. 

 

After rinsing out the conditioner in his hair, he turns the nozzle, and the steps out of the shower, careful of his own leg. He holds himself up on the towel rack for a few beats while he finds his footing. His leg had been giving out more often over the past few years, and he fears one day he’ll fall and be unable to stand.

 

Newton might never be there to pick him up.

 

He hobbles out of the bathroom after drying himself off and slips on a button up, not forgetting to hook the one at the very top. 

 

Jake had given him instructions in an email. He had told Hermann to have some sort of game plan for this, to not go in there blindly hoping for the best. Newton seemed to still be rubbing off on him even after all these years, because Hermann was going to do just that.

 

Wing it. 

 

In his defense, he winged it the day prior, and he had gotten closer to the real Newton than the entire PPDC interrogation unit had gotten in several weeks. _ Militarian imbeciles _ , he thinks bitterly.

 

If he expressed half the attitude he harbored towards these men of power and their “protocol” Hermann was certain he’d get his license revoked.

 

Hermann’s hands hover over his desk in his bedroom. There are three bottles of cologne. One he wears now, and a classier one he’s worn several years prior, mostly at the Shatterdome. He hadn’t used it in years. Newton always complimented it, and it made him blush.

 

Hermann raises a hand up to smack himself lightly on the forehead.  _ What the bloody hell are you doing, you utter buffoon _ , he thinks.

 

He was going to  _ help _ Newt, not entice him out with a few dabs of sensual cologne. Hermann pulled on a suit jacket and left his room in a rush.

 

Newton saw Hermann as his friend, as a lab partner. He’d come off as embarrassingly silly if he were to assume Newton felt anything deeper than that. Wouldn’t he?  _ Yes you would _ , he thought to himself with tension building between his brow.

 

As he’s making his way down the hall, Hermann screws his eyes shut, trying to expel the hopes and the desires swimming around in his head. This wasn’t about  _ him _ , damn it. This was about Newton Geiszler for as long as it damn well takes. 

 

* * *

 

“Good luck, Gottlieb,” Jake says, standing tall above the mathematician. Hermann nods and begrudgingly accepts the taser he’s offering. He slides it into his back pocket. If there was some freak escape and Hermann was in danger, it would come of use. Though Hermann prays he will never have to witness the expression of agony on Newton’s face if he should ever need to use it.

 

“Don’t feel any pressure to bring him back right away,” Jake adds, sitting down behind his desk, and lifting his legs up to rest his feet on the desk in a very unprofessional fashion. Hermann grimaces. “You aren’t expected to get all this done in one day. And, we aren’t in a rush.”

 

“I know,” Hermann says.

 

He wants to leave, and he knows Jake can see that.

 

Shockingly, Jake smiles. “I’m just telling you to not strain yourself, mate. That thing can sense fear. It’ll use it against you. Take it easy on yourself.”

 

“I can’t take it easy on myself until I know that they are taking it easy on him,” Hermann responds. He isn’t curt, just resigned. Jake’s smile vanishes, and he stares down at his desk before taking a deep, elongated, arguably  _ dramatic _ , breath.

 

“Dismissed.” 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Hermann feels the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he fiddles for the keycard to the interrogation room. He remembers the feeling of being in the Precursor’s presence. He felt dominant, and despite Jake’s warnings,  _ he _ could sense _ its _ fears.

 

There is little to no hesitation when he reaches the entrance.

 

He swipes his card and steps into the room. It’s cold again, but Hermann does not care in the slightest. The hawkish air was worth it for the look on the Precursor’s face when it sees Hermann.

 

An ugly, mangled, scowl. “Look what the cat dragged in,” it sneers as Hermann crowds closer to the cage. He can see it tensing, knuckles white, and digging into the arms of the chair it’s strapped to.

 

“Good afternoon,” Hermann says politely, just to see it roll its eyes. “I’m sorry our time together was cut short yesterday. Lucky for us, or for me and Newton rather, not for you, I’ve acquired an hour of visiting time in this very room with you each day.”

 

“Oh, joy,” it grumbles staring blankly at its feet. Again, much like the day before, it seems tired. 

 

“I will be here for as long as it takes,  _ Newton _ .” Hermann watches the Precursor’s eyes trail up just slightly to stare at the wall instead of its shoes. For a while it looks as if it’s going to snap, growl, or screech, but it scoffs and leans it’s head back against the headrest. 

 

“You will fail, Herms.” 

 

“We shall see. As you have stated many times before, I am stubborn dickhead,” Hermann says smugly, seeing the lips on Newton’s face purse slightly.

 

“I think the word you're looking for is Dick _ hole _ .” Hermann swallows and fights back a smile, wondering if this specific sarcastic-tinted humor is seeping through the cracks of the Precursor’s mind control. 

 

He makes his way to the front of the glass cage, resting a hand on it. He can almost sense the thing’s pulse quicken.

 

“We’ve corrupted him for ten years, you don’t know the strength we possess,” it snarls, feigning vigor. Hermann does smile then, remaining in place.

 

“You also managed to avoid me for ten years now, and for what reason?” The thing stares back at him, intensely silent , and Hermann revels in his small victory. He adds, “I don’t need to reiterate the details for you, I’m clear you know exactly  _ why _ you’ve avoided me.”

 

“You cocky  _ thick-headed _ -” 

 

“Is it difficult for you?” Hermann questions plainly, fingers trailing down to the lock on the glass cage. He knew he couldn’t open it, he had a keycard, but he had been instructed not to. If he were to give in, Ranger Pentecost might not be as understanding as he was the last time.

 

“What?” it asks, looking at Hermann like the man had two heads.

 

“When _he’s_ trying to regain control. Is it a constant struggle? I know Newton, I know him well, and I know he would never give up a good fight, even if it were twenty years.”

 

The thing scoffs, lips parting slightly as if his mouth was not connecting to his brain, it looked for a moment like he wanted to plead or beg, but his eyes crinkle at the corners and the thing starts  _ laughing _ with its blood stained lips.

 

“No. He doesn’t fight. He stopped fighting the first week we took control,” it says gruffly, shuffling it’s feet. Newton shuffles his feet when he’s nervous.

 

Hermann feels a pain in his heart he can’t find a label for. He tries not to let his emotions translate to the expression on his face. If he stands his ground, the precursors would remain restless. “What about the first time you were forced to see me again?”

 

The precursors stay quiet. 

 

“I bet he woke up bright as day,” Hermann suggests.    
  


“You’re giving yourself a lot of credit, dude,” it says mirroring Hermann’s smirk. “Why would you of all people be the one to save him, he _ hated _ you.”

 

Though Hermann knows that fact is false, he falters for a moment, the words stinging just a tad.

 

“He _ hates _ you,” it adds. “I don’t blame him. Your stuffy, preppy, ill-witted ass is always getting in the way of his work. Whining about your nightmares, like okay buddy, we get it, you can’t handle yourself without him. You’re a codependent farcical robot! Why would you believe someone like Newton Geiszler would like you even as a friend? You're a shell of a man, Hermann. At least Newton can defend his own opinion when it's countered, you just stand there with your hand against your forehead like some compliant  _ freak _ . You’re a weakling and a coward, and he thinks you’re pathetic. You wouldn't have been able to get where you are in your career without him, you selfish, irritating, ridiculing joke of a man.” It’s spitting, saliva sparkling right below it’s lips under the overhead light.

 

Hermann’s fingers curl against the glass, wanting to slap that smug expression off it’s face.  _ Newton’s _ face. He loathed the beast for stealing his face, his voice. Many times in the past he had wanted to strike Newton, but this was different, it wasn’t playful, it was contemptuous. 

 

“Now you tell me, do you think me as a Precursor entity alone, could create all that mumbo jumbo in my head? There has to be some truth to it. Geiszler never revealed his loathing for you, I’d say he’s a master at averting the classic Freudian slip. ” There is blood dripping from Newton’s nose. “Tell me it's true,” there is a infernal smile crawling up his lips.

 

The monster was determined to get under Hermann’s skin. His steadfast adherence to save Newton first, and  _ think _ second, was the only thing keeping the brick barriers surrounding his fragile emotional state from shattering in two. 

 

“We  _ both _ know that’s not true,” Hermann says firmly, dragging two of his fingers over the light purple blemish below his Adam’s apple, the bruises from being choked, they had been more prominent the day after it happened but had begun to fade significantly. “If that were true, and he does hate me, you wouldn’t have bothered to avoid me for the past ten years, and knowing  _ your _ kind, you most likely would have kept me around to goad and gloat.”

 

A strand of hair falls just above Newton’s eye and Hermann only now notices the heaving of his chest, rising and falling quick enough to be classified as a full-on panic attack. How long has he been like this? The whole conversation? Hermann is suddenly washed over with waves of concern as he sees veins in Newton’s head pop marginally. 

 

This had never happened before on the tapes Hermann had watched. Was Newton fighting back?  _ You must fight, I’m here with you, Newton. I will not leave you again _ . Hermann grips both sides of the cage with his hands, cane pressing against the glass with them, and tries to make eye contact even as Newton’s body is as keeled over as it can be with restraints.

 

“Newton?” Hermann asks in a voice softer than he had intended.

 

The thing looks up and in a matter of seconds starts frantically bashing it’s head against the sides of the glass cage, with a loud, guttural,  _ grunt _ .

 

The first crack sounded excruciating, and Hermann tumbles backwards out of shock. It kept going, smashing it’s skull in the same direction against the right side of the glass, making small cracks, over and over and  _ over _ .

 

“Newt-You-Please stop! _ I beg you!”  _ Hermann cries, flailing his hands, dropping his cane for a second time in this god awful prison. He had gone from having a clear streak of confidence to feeling utterly destitute in his place.

 

The Precursors didn’t stop, and Hermann was unsure if it even heard him. It had a horrific expression on its face. It’s mouth was twisted into an almost-grin but it seemed more like it was gritting its teeth, blood dripping from its nose down unto its lips, eyebrows tilting upward in a dedicated focus.

 

Hermann begged loudly to the security camera, not even sure of his own words, just knowing they were frantic and included some colorful language Newton would have laughed at him for in any other situation. 

 

The thing was grunting still, hands gripping tightly to the arms of the seat, feet shifting in berserk movement. Hermann feels sick, and that is when the bulky men in uniforms rush in and drag him out again. This time he was compliant, and allows himself to be carried away quietly out into the hall, only just then realizing he could have used his keycard to open the cage.

 

He stands still in the hall, hearing the grunts and low screams coming from inside the room as more men rush in, followed by a seemingly shaken Pentecost who only shoots Hermann one small reassuring glance before disappearing into the room. 

 

Hermann stood there, mind blank and ears buzzing until the screaming and cracking stops, and Jake walks out first, eyes wide and alert. “We tranquilized him, he’ll be knocked out for a few hours,” Jake explains, hoarse. 

 

When Hermann doesn’t say anything, Jake puts a firm, consoling hand on his shoulder, rocking him a little bit to relax him. “This is expected behaviour from a person, or a monster in this case, that knows it’s been cornered. Believe it or not, these are actually desired results. I do apologize for you not being able to get your full hour in today, Gottlieb.”

 

Hermann rolls his shoulder back to remove Jake’s hand. Physical contact in this moment was making him feel suffocated, and only swelling the bile he still feels building in his throat.

 

“Whatever that was, is not a  _ desired _ result, sir.” Hermann stares down at the floor as if all the secrets of the universe and every math equation under the sun could be discovered or solved in its grey tiled pattern. His brain was using every Freudian defense mechanism possible to block out the crack of Newton’s skull against the glass box, and the agonized grunts it had expended, sounding like a dying animal.

 

“Perhaps not,” Jake says considerately, “but it was necessary.”

 

Hermann bites back multiple remarks, because even he recognizes he is under personal distress and is not thinking properly. He merely nods, gazing absently now at the symbol on Jake’s ranger attire, daydreaming about if he and Newton had decided to become Jaegar pilots together instead of scientists. How much trouble it might have saved them, ironically. The only thing they would have had to worry about is dying, not some outlandish demon-like possession from yours truly, the  _ bloody _ Kaijus. 

 

“I was trusting we wouldn’t have to remove the glass cage from the equation, and was hoping it would pan out differently, but now I think it would be safe to move forward without it,” Jake states.

 

Hermann doesn’t respond, thinking in his head again, in brief visions on how else the Precursors could hurt Newton’s body even without a glass enclosure. 

 

“He’d of course still be strapped down to his seat, and we’d ask for you to refrain from any touching, but if you believe it is necessary, I’m not going to send the guard downs if you touch him...it... _ them _ ,” Jake stumbles over his words and runs an exhausted hand over his head. “Gottlieb?”

 

“Sir?” Hermann snaps to attention, seeing the last of the uniformed men leave the cell, and the metal doors close behind them. 

 

“No judgement if you decide to quit after today, that really was something troublesome to witness, and since you’re not used to this sort of violence and interrogation in your field-” Jake gets cut off by Hermann’s sharp tone.

  
“ _ Sir _ , I am not going to stop returning until  _ he returns _ ,” Hermann swallows, desperately searching for the right words, “Until he is back and with  _ me _ .” Jake raises a brow at this. It isn’t judgemental, but more heedful. “Please do not think I am so fragile. This, well, this only strengthened my resolve.” Hermann tilts his chin up a fraction and Jake looks like he’s going to laugh. It was endearing.

 

“Glad to hear it, mate,” Jake says, giving Hermann one last slap on the shoulder.

 

* * *

 

_ 2:30 am  _

 

The red light from the clock illuminates a small space by the side of Hermann’s bed, and he lays flat on his back staring at the ceiling fan going round and round.

 

He wanted nothing more than to be in Newton’s arms at this very moment, for Newton to be in  _ his _ arms. He’d wanted it for the past twenty years, but this was a different sort of yearning, an old and familiar longing. There was a chance he’d never see Newton again as he knew him, and he felt like a bastard for wishing it was the war again. Hermann wished this a lot. He wished they could be stuffed back into that clammy laboratory with no sound save from chalk scratching against blackboards and squelching sounds of fingers reaching into Kaiju brains. 

 

Rolling over, Hermann tries to remember the smell of Newton when they worked side by side at in front of the holographics. He tries to remember the pattern of Newton’s tattoos when he’d roll his dirty button-up sleeves up his forearm. He tries to remember the affectionate smile Newt gave Hermann everytime he slid on his round spectacles. And, he tries to remember the warm butterflies in his stomach that wondered if Newton thought he was alluring. 

 

He was in love. Hermann thinks he’s always known that, just never really thought too hard about the labels or the deeper meaning. And he misses being in love, in the way where it was simple and constant. In the way that he could go down and find Newton drunk off his ass on Hermann’s side of the lab and help him to his bed, where he could brush a strand of his hair back from his brow before leaving to return to his work.

 

All of that was ripped away in weeks after the war. And for ten years, Hermann had focused on getting over him. Yet, the harder he tried, the deeper he fell. 

 

Hermann had found a system to cope with the harrowing yearning he’d felt for years on end; each day he read a letter of theirs that they had written to each other when they first met.  Hermann had forgotten the contents, it was almost like speaking to Newton again. 

 

It helped. It rubbed balm into the open wounds he’d maintained ever since Newton had joined Shaou industries. It helped him pretend Newton hadn’t actually left him

 

And then  _ that _ was ripped away, thank christ, and Hermann now understands that Newton has not been himself for years and Hermann has been currently internally battling with self-loathing and an unconditional desire to be with Newton again. That warmth that was coupled with his love all those years ago had returned, and despite his trepidation and resignation towards the cool and calculating eyes of those Precursors dominating Newt’s mind, he knew he had a chance.

 

Hermann prays to the star speckled heavens that Newton does not hate him. He should have figured it out sooner,  _ by jove _ , it was right in front of his blinded eyes. They could have had ten years more together, if Hermann had just figured out if something was wrong, if he had just gone over to his home when Newton asked him to. 

 

For now, he lets his eyelids fall, drifting into a dream of the first and last letters they wrote to each other in the beginning of it all, and all the letters in between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for reading Day One of this story! I have a lot of plans for the future of the piece and I'm having a lot of fun writing it so if you have any suggestions for future chapters or something you'd like to see, or a critique, leave a comment! I shall start working on Day Two this weekend so that should be up fairly soon as well. Thanks again for sticking with this, and I hope you're enjoying. It's a bit angsty as of right now.


	3. Day Two

_ Blood. Hermann sees it nearly black under the dim light of the interrogation sector. The lamp above Newton’s mangled body swings back and forth with a blaring creak.  _

 

_ Hermann is screaming, distantly; he can’t hear himself all that well. There is a deafening ringing in his ears as images and foreign snarls from the precursors in their true alien form penetrate into his mind.  _

 

_ They’re crawling on his skin, slick black fingers trailing down from his chin to his collarbone, and he thrashes, trying to get to Newton. Damn them all to hell, he just wants to make sure Newton is still alive. _

 

_ He feels pain and terror, forming in his bones, forcing his limbs into numbness and he can no longer defend himself, watching Newton’s body turn into something glowing and blue. He observes helplessly as Newton’s arm stretch and his legs bulk, eyes becoming pierced and teeth growing longer than fingers.  _

 

_ Kaiju.  _

 

_ The growing monster breaks free from it’s binds after every bit of Newton has been bartered, and it surges forward, swallowing Hermann into its unhinged jaw. _

 

* * *

 

Hermann wakes with a start, sweating from head to toe. He feels a nauseous stirring in his stomach and clambers out of bed, focusing only on where to find the nearest trash bin. 

 

He wasn’t sure if it was the gruesome dream or waking up so suddenly that had caused him to vomit, but either way, his thighs are now resting against the cold tile floor of his bathroom and he heaves slowly, trying to catch his breath. 

 

He takes a glance towards the clock just outside the bathroom. 

 

10 am. Hermann had slept in. 

 

Though he was not planning on taking another shower this morning, Hermann hops in anyway. He feels much better washing away the sweat, bile, and the disturbing aura plaguing him. Though, the disturbing thoughts still remained in his head as clear as day when he turned the nozzle off. 

 

He slips into some clothes, buttoning up his shirt, but this time opting to leave the top button unbuttoned. He gives himself a smug smile in the mirror, never before having felt so promiscuous.

 

Hermann momentarily wonders if he shouldn’t be thinking about if Newton prefers the top button unbuttoned or not. 

 

Today wasn’t going to be like the day before, no, Hermann had a plan. At 11 am, he slides into his desk chair and opens his laptop gathering all the necessary files into one folder he then labels “Newton” with a smile. 

 

Bad dreams usually left a bad taste in Hermann’s mouth, and today was no different, but with that being said, the uneasy feelings couldn’t wash away his giddy excitement for the method he was planning to use. 

 

Perhaps Pentecost had been correct; Hermann really had needed a plan instead of just winging it, because now he feels worlds better about his own preparation.  

 

He slams his laptop shut and haphazardly tries to shove it into an already full, leather, computer bag. Newton was  _ still  _ rubbing off on him. He takes a deep breath and then tries again, easily slipping the laptop into the bag, behind the wires.

 

Hermann styles his hair for a moment in the bathroom mirror, frowning at the sunken shape of his cheekbones he had always despised. Newton has such beautiful cheeks, full and rosy, complimenting the curves of his thighs and arms, and stomach. Hermann smiles, twiddling his thumb around a button on his shirt and daydreaming about what Newton used to look like when he had his too-big glasses always sliding off his nose when he worked. 

 

Hermann wanted for years to kiss his stomach, all the way up to his cheeks and watch his rosy cheeks blush deeper. He  _ wants _ . 

 

Newton doesn’t look the same as he used to, it wasn’t just his glasses. It wasn’t even his new precursor attitude, or how he was hiding his tattoos. It was his shape. He had lost weight, cheeks sinking slightly, stomach sucked in more often, legs not fitting into tight pants like usual to show off his...well...his  _ something _ .

 

Hermann’s mind wanders into another realm of desire he wasn’t ready to explore this early in the morning and that he feels guilty exploring without Newton even present in existence as of the moment. 

 

He splashes some cold water from the sink onto his face and dries himself with a towel. He glances back at the mirror. 

 

Nope, still distinctively undesirable. 

 

Hermann grabs his computer bag, and heads out to find Pentecost before he returns to the interrogation quarters. 

 

* * *

 

“Then where the hell is he, Ranger?” Hermann demands. The boy he’s asking is in his very early 20s most likely, and Hermann feels a small sliver of authority derived from the kid’s nervous, yet obedient, expression.

 

“I told you I’m unsure, I just know that um, Mr. Pentecost wanted to go partying last night,” the boy says.

 

“Immature child,” Hermann groans, running a hand through his styled hair. There was no saving it now, but Hermann was too tired to care. “Thank you, um, young one. Now, hurry along.” Hermann waves a frantic hand in the direction of the door. 

 

The boy runs for his life. Hermann could have apologized for raising his voice a little at the beginning there, but this day was important to him. Pentecost or not, Hermann would be going to see Newton. That being said, Hermann was never one to indulge in disobedience when it could be avoided.

 

He scoops up the phone on the desk, dialing Pentecost’s personal cell number, and waits for him to pick up. To Hermann’s surprise, he does.

 

“Is this...coming from my office?” Jake’s voice sounds strained and overwhelmingly exhausted. 

 

“Yes, It’s 11:45, sir. This isn’t behaviour your father would approve of.” 

 

“My father didn’t approve of any of my behaviors,” Jake says sarcastically. “Hold up, can you hang out there for five minutes? I promise I’ll be right down.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Hermann says curtly. He hangs the phone up and waits, mind unusually blank. It takes about six whole minutes precisely for Pentecost to stumble into the room, pulling his uniform jacket on while he maneuvers around his desk. 

 

“I hope this isn’t going to be an everyday ordeal,” Hermann chides, watching Pentecost wince at all the bright lights in the room. 

 

“Oh hell no, mate, this was...” He trails off believing he won’t have to give an explanation, but when he sees Hermann waiting sternly, he caves. “...I was out last night, trying to get a certain somebody I like jealous, which I know sounds completely and utterly petty but--”

 

“Get to the point, Jake.”

 

“The point is, he didn’t even notice me snogging all those other guys and girls last night. You’d think after the third he would have glanced over, but he left halfway through the night and I ended up drinking a whole lot. I don’t really have the best excuse,” Jake says, stumbling over his words slightly.

 

Hermann’s lips quirk up just slightly. “Jealousy tactics seldom work if the other person is sensitive, and more likely to go bawl in a room rather than face up to the person they like snogging other men and women as you so stated.” He thinks for a moment about all those times Newton asked him to come meet Alice.  _ She’s wonderful, you’ll love her _ , he would cheer. God, how he despised the name Alice after all those agonizing years. Jealousy had created a deep pit in his stomach that had grown each and every day with Newt’s neglect for a near decade. 

 

_ Thank goodness it was a Kaiju brain _ , Hermann thinks, finding the irony of that rather humorous in some sick and twisted way.

 

Jake deflates. “Oh lord, did I make the situation worse? What kind of fresh new hell-”

 

“Ranger Pentecost, never before have I seen you so pressed and serious about a person’s affection. It’s endearing. Do you think Nate reciprocates?” Hermann questions, genuinely understanding about Jake’s situation. 

 

He’d seen the way Jake looks at Nate. He is damn well familiar with that look.

 

“Nate?  _ Nate? _ I didn’t say  _ Nate _ ,” Jake rambles, and then notices how he’s acting, leaning forward on the desk, being unnaturally defensive and hungover. “Okay,” he says, “Maybe I do have a thing for Nate, so what? We had a fling when we were younger and that’s when everything changed, but, now that we’re on good terms again, I’m starting to, _ see  _ him again if you get me.”

 

“I understand entirely,” Hermann says quietly. He remembers the elated flips his stomach made once he realized Newton had been trapped in his own mind for years and that the old Newton was still salvageable. It felt like they had just won the war all over again. 

 

“I don’t think he reciprocates. I think he still has a thing for Reyes, I mean I don’t blame him, she’s bloody beautiful, I just-”

 

“Reyes?”

 

“Yes, sorry you remember her right?” Jake asks.

 

“Jules is Liwen’s girlfriend,” Hermann says with an incredulous chuckle. “Surely you knew. They’ve been going steady for weeks.” 

 

Jake is dumbfounded and he scratches his chin. For a moment he and Hermann stare at each other, and it’s just now that Hermann is becoming aware of the time. He has five minutes to get to Newton. Before he can speak, Jake clears his throat.

  
“That makes things different then,” he says finally, leaning back in his chair. Hermann feels a small pang of relief on his behalf, knowing he would lock himself up in his own room for days if Newton liked someone else or had a crush. Surprisingly enough, before Alice, Hermann hadn’t heard anything about  _ anyone _ . Perhaps Newton was quiet about his love life, but he was always in the lab, and he didn’t have much of a life outside of it much like Hermann. 

 

“Yes, so maybe now you can make it in time for our meetings, instead of getting legless off your arse.” Hermann says this playfully, despite himself.

 

Jake laughs, and it’s the first time, in perhaps forever, he’s actually felt a real and genuine connection with Stacker’s son. “Of course, Dr. Gottlieb. I’m assuming you’d prefer for me to stop rambling about my love life being in shambles so you can get to work.”

 

Hermann bites back a comment about how his love life is quite literally possessed with precursors and buried in isolation for ten years

He bites it back because no one knows how Hermann feels about Newton, and nobody is _ going  _ to know. 

 

He finds himself smiling warmly, not something he does often, but he’s been smiling more ever since his and Newton’s first drift. “Jake, I was exceptionally close with your father. If you do need to speak to me about anything that is troubling you, you know you could never bother me.” 

 

Jake narrows his eyes, “You’re playing with me.” 

 

“Playing is for children. I don’t exactly have any company anymore, so you wouldn’t be intruding on my everyday life. I haven’t one. Doing this for Newton, it’s...all I have,” Hermann says, subdued. 

 

Jake nods, eyes scattering around trying to figure out if this is the same Gottlieb that was barking at him the day before, and then he seems to remember his hangover and rubs his temples. “Thank you, Gottlieb. I won’t forget that. Now, let’s get you on your way.”

 

* * *

 

Jake had just given Hermann another taser. This time it seemed more fundamental to the visit, since the glass cage was removed the day before. Again, Jake had reminded him not to touch Newton unless he thought it was absolutely imperative he do so. 

 

Hermann has dreamed of touching Newton for far too long, but he was also smart enough to not want to take the risk. If it were Newton in his place, he’d probably be slapping the Precursors out of Hermann.

 

When he reaches the doors he swipes his card and enters the room. It’s a bit colder than yesterday and Hermann suppresses a shiver as the doors close behind him. He wonders if the temperature is to keep the Precursors alert. 

 

They snap to attention the second Hermann enters.

 

As he was setting up his laptop on the table adjacent to where the _ thing _ was sitting, he glances over to see Newton’s body. His face all on the right side was purple and bloody, little scrapes and cuts from glass fragments no doubt. Hermann stares in a quiet, controlled, rage.

 

“Hey pal,” it says in an animated voice. “Come back for more? You like the show yesterday?”

 

Hermann remains silent. He wasn’t going to be goaded into a fight. He had plans, after all. He did however, enjoy the unbridled tense stature of the Precursors. They did not know what he was up to, why he was on his laptop, or why he was choosing to remain quiet. 

 

It made them afraid. 

 

Hermann pulls up the documents he’s looking for, and before he starts, he turns to gaze one more time at the Precursor-possessed Newton, aching for him to return, swallowing down so many words he wants to say, so many confessions that haven’t been able to reach the surface for twenty years. 

 

It gifts Hermann with a barren gaze and a disturbing, duchenne smile. 

 

“What are you doing?” it asks in a carefully low voice. Without the glass cage obstructing his view, Hermann can see the glint in the thing’s eyes anxiously awaiting whatever was on Hermann’s laptop, he can see his fingertips twitch against the seat he’s strapped down to. 

 

Hermann turns back to his computer, taking a deep breath.

 

“ _ Dear Newton Geiszler, _

 

_ I am writing to you because I have only recently discovered your work on Biological Structures and Engineering of Kaiju Specimens and seeing as you’re one of the only scientists in the field that has done valid and viable research in the field, I wished to congratulate you on your achievements and your impeccable intelligence. It was indeed a fascinating read.  _

 

_ I myself am also involved in K-Science and I was hoping we could perhaps correspond about our theories and our work. I think it would be beneficial to both of our interests. Personally, I have had nobody to converse with on matters such as these, and in the most considerate way possible, everyone I have attempted to work with has been exceptionally boilerplate in their ingenuity. _

 

_ If you do decide to correspond with me, it would bring me great joy. _

 

_ Sincerely, Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. _ ”

 

Hermann looks over to see Newton’s fingers curling, his expression blank for a moment before his eyes widen. His gaze frantically jerks to Hermann’s and he gives a laugh. “So this is your big plan. You’re gonna read your old letters and get him to fight harder? Pathetic. Dumb. Adolescent!”

 

Hermann tips his chin up stubbornly, clicking the “next” arrow to switch to the following letter.

 

“He’s already given up!” the Precursors shout, jolting only once, causing the chair to budge a fraction. The bottom legs are bolted to the floor. Hermann continues.

 

_ “Dear Hermann Gottlieb, _

 

_ Excuse my language, but holy shit! You are Lars Gottlieb’s only son, the inventor of the Jaeger program! I almost fell off my seat when I first read your letter, and I’m so happy you reached out to me. I’ve felt the same about your work and your studies. You’re one of the smartest people in the field, and I’ve been dying to talk to you about your theories on the Genetic Breach study you said you’ve researched.  _

 

_ I’ve formulated some of my own theories about that. I’d love to discuss them with you in the next letter if you’re interested in keeping this going, because trust me I don’t have a life either so this is going to be my only social interaction for the next forty years, there’s no doubt in my mind. _

 

_ Did you just call everyone idiots? Because I definitely relate. Everyone I talk to goes so slow, it’s like they have turtle brains, or their brains are turtles. _

 

_ Anyways, I unconditionally accept your request to converse more! I don’t talk to a lot of people except my mom and my boss. This will definitely get the neural networks in my brain buzzing again.  _

 

_ Sincerely, Dr. Newton Geiszler.” _

 

Hermann glances over at Newton’s frame, seeing as his breathing has quickened again, and sweat is beading by his brow.  _ Newton, keep fighting _ . Hermann stifles a smile, and returns to the letters. He’s getting close. 

 

He skips over letters that were pages long about theories and science. That had time for all that once Newton was saved and when there might be a need for restating well-known academics. He was here to reach Newton, the human part of him that was still belligerent. 

 

Hermann found a letter that was about Newton’s family. Hermann didn’t even remember most of these, they were so long ago, but he remembered how he felt reading them. Everytime he would get a notification in his inbox he would smile wide, and ignore the creeping blush on his cheeks as he hurried to open it, read it, and reply as soon as possible.

 

He had an image of what Newton was going to be in his mind before he met him. When he first reached out to him, it was purely work-related. When he got to know Newton, he fell a little deep into the rabbit hole. When Newton didn’t reply for two days he couldn’t focus on work. When Newton didn’t reply for a week, Hermann sent him an extra email asking if he was alright.

 

Newton would send back that he was fine, just busy, and that he missed speaking to Hermann. Hermann was head over heels for that sort of affection. Newton was his first real crush, which sounds elementary in Hermann’s head, but that “crush” so to speak turned into something much deeper, and more fine-tuned to his existence. 

 

He thought Newton would be tall, built,  _ classy _ with his hair gelled back properly. While most of his letters were informal, Hermann assumed the formal ones were more on par with reality. People could get fairly unhinged in emails, and his “holy shits!” and “what the fucks!” were expletives easier used virtually. 

 

He remembered meeting him, seeing how small he was, seeing his large glasses and unkempt hair. Hermann remembered his own jaw dropping seeing just how tight his pants and _ leather  _ jacket were.  _ Bloody hell, he never mentioned anything about leather _ . He also remembered Newton's first words to him.

 

“You look like a grandpa, dude.” 

 

To which Hermann started to violently bristle and snapped back, “You look like a garden gnome in a leather jacket.” He had never said anything so crude in his entire life, but that was only the beginning.

 

One argument led to another, and then another  _ thousand _ , and now they were here.

 

Hermann has four minutes remaining with Newton today, and he can see him slumped over, drained beyond description, leg bouncing vigorously. There was one more letter, the last one. 

 

He wasn’t sure if this would bring Newton out, but either way, he knew inside Newton was doing backflips, and forming little heart shapes with his hands, and doing his best to cut through the Precursor influence, probably trying to pretend it was as easy to cut through as butter.

 

_ “Dear Hermann, _

 

_ I cannot believe this is going to be my last letter to you, dude. I’m leaving for the airport right now, and I’m so excited to meet you. These past few years have been the best of my life, and I don’t say that lightly. I don’t have friends, partners, and I barely see my mother, so speaking to you has filled something in me... _

 

_ Hermann, I promise you we are going to like each other. I don’t want you to worry about that like you have been, we’ll get along just fine! I’m sure your sweaters aren’t that horrendous, I’ve only seen one picture of you from your website and you look very normal. I’m normal too! I promise. I might hug you, if you’re down for that. I’m probably going to hug you either way so be prepared.  _

 

_ I need to stop rambling so I don’t miss my flight, but I promise, whatever happens, I will not leave you. We can die as old men talking about science if that’s what you want. As your only certified friend, I want to make you a happy guy. I only ask that you regularly buy my coffee because otherwise I will join the Kaiju specimens on the lab floor every morning. _

 

_ I’m so excited, for everything. I can’t wait to be with you. _

 

_ Yours, Newt.” _

 

Hermann bites his lip to keep from making any unbecoming noises. He composes himself and turns to see Newton sitting in the chair, breathing evenly now, and unusually still.

 

There is a tear falling from one of his eyes. He glances up at Hermann and their gaze connects momentarily. Hermann swears he can feel him, or part of him. He has a strong urge to tell him that he loves him. 

 

He opens his mouth and says shakily, “I believe your time is up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah shit I actually wrote and edited this in one day but I think it's pretty good? Idk jashk. I'm not very coherent sometimes I'm sorry. Thanks for reading another chapter! I'll work on the fourth one as soon as possible, but I have exams coming up so I can't make any promises. Hope y'all liked the letter thing~


	4. Day Three

There was nothing that compared to the feeling in Hermann’s abdomen reaching all the way up to his heart when he knew he was going to see Newton soon. It had been this way for years, though for the past ten there had been an accompanied bitter and twisted feeling knowing when he saw Newton, he wasn’t going to give Hermann the time of day. Or if he did, it was just going to be another invitation to see his precious “Alice.”

 

The trepidation that caused his bones to be weak and enforced cardiactic strain was gone. Hermann’s experiment the day before had worked. Well, a  _ tad _ . He’d gotten an unexpected reaction out of the Precursors and that truly was a feat Hermann should reward himself for. 

 

There were plans Hermann had in his mind for if the letters experiment was successful, and since it was, he begins gathering the crucial miscellania that he could use today, having to break one of his drawers to get it unstuck. 

 

Associations. Newton needed to be connected to old memories, anything that would remind him of who he is. It had been working so far.

 

The mind was a powerful thing when it was attempting to heal itself, and Newton’s cerebral cortex is all Hermann’s meager knowledge on biology and psychology is banking on. The letters were stimulation in a way, and Hermann hopes Newton can find some sort of solace in regression and in turn be motivated to keep retaliating.

 

Hermann wasn’t certain of the specifics. He wasn’t sure if Newton was always present, or if he was continuously buried underneath the Precursors, unknowing of the world around him save for a few shining moments where he poked through. The latter option would be less difficult on his part, and he hopes Newton hasn’t witnessed the destruction he caused. 

 

Newton had a knack for blaming himself, for any minor inconvenience. Destroying the world was going to be catastrophic for Newton’s self-image. The burly confidence he emanated in front of the Marshall or other rangers was merely a front, there were times when Newton would cry or slump in a corner wallowing in his own self pity because he spilled Hermann’s coffee on the way back to the lab. Hermann spent a majority of his life with him, and he knew him well. 

 

With a small, reminiscent smile, Hermann digs through his closet to find a large bag he doesn’t use for camping, but is apparently meant for it. Camping was far too filthy to indulge in.

 

He takes the items he’s gathered on his bed and starts shoving them into the bag one by one. He goes to his desk where his laptop sits and he picks up the cologne he used to wear, the one Newt likes explicitly. Hermann applies more than is necessary, and the room suddenly smells significantly like pinewood. 

 

He glances at himself in the mirror, and feels only a sliver of doubt, reluctance showing in the dark circles under his eyes. 

 

* * *

 

Jake out of it again this morning, but he had been on time to their check-in. Hermann hadn’t asked about Nate, and Jake wasn’t giving up an invitation to do so, but Hermann was still talking in a supportive tone to make the air between them feel authentic. He didn’t want to sound rude, ready to rush to Newton as soon as Jake told him he was dismissed, so he tried his best to stay attentive. Luckily it was short, and Jake confirmed that the room was set up today the exact way Hermann had requested it last night during his end of the day mission report.

 

Jake wasn’t entirely sure why Hermann was requesting all these specific details, but they weren’t out of the question, so he let the man go about his business, and allowed him access to anything he needed. 

 

Feeling bulletproof, Hermann finds himself tapping his cane in a rhythm on the floor as he nears the chamber. The bag he’s carrying is awkwardly slung over his arm, weighing down heavily on his back, and he nearly topples over trying to reach for his keycard. The doors  _ swoosh _ open.

 

Cold, again. 

 

Hermann smiles when he sees him. He’s sitting at a metal desk, wrists handcuffed by a chain to the table, and an empty chair sitting across from him respectively placed for Hermann. 

 

He can see Newton’s nostrils flare from all the way in the doorway, and he finally takes the last step inside, letting the door shut behind him. 

 

“Is that  _ Pino Silvestere? _ ” he asks when Hermann lets the bag plop down on the table and takes his seat. He’s referring to the cologne. Of  _ course _ it was the first thing he noticed. 

 

Hermann hums a yes as he begins to dig through the bag’s contents. He’s avoiding eye contact, yet he still feels the Precursor’s sharp scoff on his cheeks. Newton’s close enough to where he could reach out and grab Hermann’s hand if he wanted to, if  _ they  _ wanted to, but something was holding them back from moving. 

 

“Cheap stuff,” he says, eyes carefully watching the bag as Hermann pulls out a watch. “You’ve always had the budget to upgrade to Tom Ford’s  _ Oud Wood _ .”

 

“I’m sure an alien hive mind has extensive knowledge on every proper type of cologne for men,” Hermann muses. The thing roars, in a laugh that isn’t Newton’s. 

 

“So the good old doctor is speaking today is he?” 

 

Hermann hums another yes, with a curve of his lips. He plays with the watch in his hands for a moment before glancing up to look at Newton’s face. His eyes are solemn and his jaw is clenched, and he can tell the Precursors were far more resolute in their stance than they had been previous days. Hermann hands him the watch, “here.” 

 

“What the hell is this?” The Precursors play with the watch for a moment before staring at its design, and Hermann can tell the moment they figure out what it is, because the expression on Newton’s face loosens and the watch falls loosely between his fingers. “Oh.”

 

His hands draw back as if he’s been burned by the object, and he glares at Hermann. “Your email garbage didn’t work yesterday, so what makes you think this will be any different?”

 

Hermann ignores the bait as he’s been doing, and avoids touching the firm calloused hands in front of him. He picks up the watch. Hermann was good at  _ avoiding _ after so many years of warding off elementary school bullies. Conversations could be so easily turned around and manipulated in his favor. Talking his way out of problems had always been one of his strong suits. 

 

“Remember you gave me this for my birthday?” Hermann questions. 

 

“ _ He _ did,” it says quietly. Hermann nods and traces a finger over the floral design on the outer cold circle of the watch. There is a sharp intake of breath in front of him.  “It was a shitty gift.” 

 

Hermann blinks. That comment sounded like Netwon, but there were no other signs of his presence. The Precursors just kept staring at the watch like they were seeing the sun for the first time, and they tapped idly at the metal desk. 

 

“That’s what Newton said. He gave it to me and told me it was a horrible gift, and that he was dumb for getting it for me. He told me before I even opened it that I was going to hate it, he was so nervous. It was rather charming, if I’m being honest,” Hermann says affectionately, rubbing a finger up and down the cool metal of the accessory. 

 

The expression on Newt’s face falters, but Hermann can tell he’s still absent.   
  


“You seem like you’re in a really good mood today, Hermie. You must have majorly gotten off on yesterday’s session, am I right?” The voice is suddenly taken over by a derisive tone.

 

Hermann’s jaw falls open fractionally, momentarily surprised by the crudeness, before he boils over and spits, “ _ I beg your pardon?! _ ”

 

The Precursor’s express a cheeky smile and laugh silently at Hermann’s scowl. 

 

“Hey, there’s the grumpy, disapproving, frog-mouthed, grandpa I know,” he says with a grin. “I’m just pulling your chain, Hermann. You can chill.”

 

“If I’m in a good mood, I’d say you’re in a rather provoking one, you vile monster,” Hermann grumbles, tossing the watch back into the bag passive aggressively. 

 

“Vile monster seems a little harsh, don’t you think?” 

 

“Destroying the Earth seems a little harsh, don’t  _ you _ think?” Hermann ask with a quirked brow.

Yes, he was arguing with an entire hivemind of Precursors and yet he still felt a spark of excitement deep in his chest. Arguing,  _ bloody hell, _ he’d missed that. 

 

There hadn’t been much room for arguing after the war when Newton’s personality started to warp and he was drained of all his bite. Hermann chalked it up to there being no scientific debate left to discuss, and had attempted to adapt to that change, becoming warmer, trying anything to make sure Newton didn’t leave him. He knew all those years he was still always going to be in love with the Newton that was willing to throw entrails at him on his bad days, but he loved him deeply enough to accept any of his changes, even if they hurt Hermann immensely. Perhaps that wasn’t precisely a healthy philosophy, but keeping himself unimpaired hadn’t been a huge priority the past several years.

 

The bickering between Hermann and these extraterrestrial beings was only convincing him further that he was reaching the real Newton in some capacity. Newton would never turn down a good argument. 

 

Perhaps if he’d come to Newton years ago and told him outfront that biology was a terrible field, and that Kaijus suck worse than brussel sprouts (as Newt used to say amongst other colorful iterations) he would have easily returned from the Precursor influence with an insult at the ready. 

 

The thing in front of him, _ the Precursors _ , they were laughing. Hermann wasn’t sure if it was at what he just said about destroying earth, or if they just enjoyed the tragedy of Hermann’s existence. 

 

“What else is in the bag, Hermie? I want to get this over with.” There is an edge of complacency to their tone, that Hermann needs to take advantage of.

 

“Compliance,” Hermann says aloud. “Truly shocking.”  He does what they ask, digging into his bag for something else. He smiles when he feels the outline of what he’s looking for, and pulls it out.

 

Newton visibly swallows. 

 

It’s his glasses, the ones that Newton used right before they destroyed the breach. The crack was still extrusive in the right frame, cracks splitting into branches and branches splitting into cracks. Hermann waits patiently as his Precursor-possessed friend trails his fingers over the shattered glass. 

 

“You, you kept these, you--” Newton says in a whisper. 

 

There is a beat of silence and then he looks up, expression baffled with enraptured intimacy. Hermann feels his heart stop. 

 

“ _ \--Why?! _ ”

 

“You were the one that kept them. You didn’t even bother to throw them out before you left for Shao,” Hermann explains, taking the glasses back and opening them at their ends. 

 

He wonders if he should ask for him to put them on or if he should just lean in and do it himself. He decides to go for the latter, concerned about rejection, moving carefully to put them on Newton’s face.

The Precursors are shocked at first, hands jolting up, and the chain connected to his handcuffs screeching to a halt when they reached their end. Hermann briefly feels Newton’s damp hair behind his ears as he places them, and when he starts to move back, the Precursors grab Hermann by the wrist.

 

Hermann’s gasp gets caught in his throat. He can feel Newton’s fingers digging into his wrist momentarily before softening and the face he’s staring back at is  _ Newton’s _ . His glasses compliment his face perfectly, and Hermann had missed that face so much. 

 

The grip softens entirely, and he feels Newt’s fingers find their way up to his own before they’re touching fingertips and Hermann instantly intertwines their fingers, holding his hand hard to ground him.  _ It’s him _ . It suddenly hits Hermann out of nowhere this is his first real, elongated, moment with Newton after ten whole years. He fights back tears that threaten to well up behind his eyelids. 

 

“Hermann,” Newton chokes out, returning the tight grip, other hand frantically trying to reach Hermann’s cheek, but the chain not able to reach. Hermann grabs his other hand in his own to steady him. “Hermann, I’m going to hurt you,” his lips quiver and his eyes are suddenly red and wet. “Oh  _ god _ , Hermann, you shouldn’t be here. You should--” 

 

“Shut up, you arse,” Hermann says briskly. Newton blinks and then cracks a small, pining, smile. The smile isn’t a happy or warm one, Newt is drowning in remorse and pain. They could work on that later,  _ together _ . 

 

“I’m going to come here as long as it takes, Newton.” Hermann cautiously leans down, only slightly, to feel Newt’s knuckles on his chin, fighting back every urge to kiss them softly. Newton is trembling, but he trails his fingers up Hermann’s jaw as far as he can reach. Hermann thinks he’ll combust. 

 

“You can’t avoid me for another ten years if I have you locked in a box,” he adds. 

 

Newton gives a shaky laugh at that, and Hermann can’t quite believe this is happening. 

 

Newton looks mortified, and he’s staring at his own hand like it’s going to lash out and start choking Hermann again if he didn’t stay on top of the Precursor influence. Hermann tightens his grip so that Newton would look him in the eyes, gaze obstructed by the shattered spectacles.

 

_ I can easily tell him I love him right now _ , Hermann thinks. Instead he says, “I will be fine.”

 

Newton closes his eyes, head facing down, and Hermann feels an instant sharp pain in his hand, as Newton’s hand uncomfortably tightens. Hermann jerks his hand out of the grip and Newton rips off his glasses throwing them so hard against the wall, both frames shatter.

 

Hermann’s mouth drops open, heart suddenly racing for entirely different reasons. 

 

“That was intentional,” The Precursors say rapidly, an alien voice attached to Newton’s. “We allowed you a minute or so with him, are you satisfied?”

 

Hermann rubs his own hand which had probably been bruised by this encounter. Like hell if he cared, though. Those seconds with Newton had been the balm needed for his years long wound, and he feels ultimately _ sated _ . It was obvious the Precursors hadn’t intended to allow Newton to peak through the cracks.

 

Hermann scoffs.

 

“So not only are you horrible vile monsters, but you are liars and can’t accept when you’ve been defeated,” he jabs.

 

The Precursors surge forward, but Hermann doesn’t flinch. They struggle fiercely against their binds, veins red around the pupils. “ _ Leave _ ,” it shouts in some form of alien speech. There is a vein popping from it’s forehead and it’s hands are reaching forward, violently scratching at the air. 

 

Hermann has scooted back in his seat, and decides that leaving early might just be the smarter idea. The Precursors will be cooled down by tomorrow, and he’d gotten more than he ever expected to today. He couldn’t process that moment with Newton quite yet, not with the alien who wore his face screeching and thrashing in front of him. He needed to go contemplate in silence. 

 

He stands, carefully grabbing his bag and turning towards the exit. 

 

“Don’t come back,” it says in a deep, threatening voice. Hermann gains enough sense to turn back around and stare it directly in the eyes until it stops violently thrashing against its binds. 

 

“I got what I needed today, but I’m not going to settle for it. You can be cooperative or you can sit there like a coward, screaming and whipping about like a child.”

 

“We are a  _ collective _ ,” they say incredulously, as if Hermann should know better than to fight things worlds bigger than him. 

 

“And I’m Hermann Gottlieb, and I’m going to do everything in my power to save the man I love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't as long as I had intended it to be, but not much was truly meant to happen in this chapter. I'm going to hold off on publishing the next chapter until after the 15th or the 17th of April. I have a film I'm working on the screenplay for, so that's been getting very hectic with deadlines and such. I hope you all liked this one! I'm not as proud of it as others, but I'm excited for the next chapter. I got some cool stuff planned.


	5. Day Four

Hermann likes to pretend he’s the only one who visits Newton daily. There is a deeply rooted comfort in knowing the only things being done to Newton are by Hermann himself, but that wasn’t the case. There were the nights of, most likely, humiliating interrogations done by anonymous rangers. He wished fortuitously he could put a stop to it, but it wasn’t Hermann’s job to switch the rules around or tell Jake Pentecost or any of the other qualified rangers what to do with Newton outside the hour that belonged to him. 

 

After finishing dinner at the mess hall the night before, he had passed by Newton’s cell again. Wrong place at the wrong time. He’d watched the rangers march inside in a single line, tranquilizer guns at the ready and helmets to hide their faces.  _ Cowards _ . 

 

Hermann had turned down every single offer to sit in for one of these more “intense” interrogation sessions as Jake Pentecost kindly put it. Even if these sessions were not what he expected, he didn’t want to take the chance of watching them beat on Newton’s mind and body with empty threats and unnecessary blows. 

 

This type of inhumane imprisonment and treatment is exactly the type of thing Newton would have been caught protesting against in his weekend rallies. Hermann, now at his sink brushing his teeth, feels a vivid memory from the night before of bile rising in his throat upon seeing those rangers enter Newt’s cell, over the thought of Newton screaming inside his head for the torture to end. 

 

It makes Hermann all the more motivated to free him.

 

Newton. Newton Geiszler. Newt. The dumb, _ idiot _ , man who once stole all of Hermann’s sweaters and jackets so he was forced to wear one of Newt’s leather ones when the lab was cold. “ _ I have my reasons, Herms. I just, I gotta see how you look in one of these. I promise it’s for science.” _

 

How was Hermann expected not to fall in love with someone constantly doting on him, and unconditionally rewarding him the amount of affection and attention that would be surprising even in a harlequin romance novel. 

 

The glasses, Newt’s glasses, had been the key to yesterday’s experiment. They were broken now, and in any other case Hermann would have mourned their loss. He was ashamed to admit he’d spent nights with those glasses clutched to his chest, sobbing excessively in his quiet solitude. Yet, he did not have time to reflect on this or the glasses, because Newton had just been set free. And oh god, the  _ hope _ he is harboring because of it. If only for a few moments, he had touched Newton, and felt his fingers against his jaw.

 

Hermann moved his own hand to his cheek now, to feel the ghost of Newton’s against his soft flesh. He would give anything to spend an hour with him, maybe two. He thinks he might explode if Newton were to return right now in his entirety, never a chance for the Precursors to return, though that was the _ best _ case scenario, and it was unlikely. 

 

Hearing Newton speak, the real him, felt like getting dunked in a bucket of ice water, with lava waiting for him at the bottom. It made Hermann feel foolish for not figuring the whole thing out sooner, it was so obviously not Newton, and yet the Precursors still fooled him.

 

There would be years and years of guilt, and trauma, and recovery after Newton was saved, so for now, Hermann buried these contrite feelings of inadequacy, focusing on the day at hand.

 

Hermann walks back out into his bedroom, pulling a robe on, and he hears a muffled stomach-churning growl.  _ Oh, _ he’s hungry. Hermann had stopped eating breakfast for a while, and it had been a very long time since he’d had more than half a granola bar in the morning. He usually woke up with a generous amount of nausea in general, but with the added nightmares related to Newton, he’d been feeling more than just a  _ tad  _ bit ill. 

 

Each day he notices his sunken cheeks, and his protruding rib cage, and his ankle bones which could cut through ice, and he felt like a skeleton whose skin was slowly shriveling up before disappearing entirely. 

 

Hermann tries to psyche himself up for eating breakfast this morning, ignoring the small twinge of nausea deep in his gut he’s sure is some pavlovian response. Even thinking about breakfast nowadays makes him sick. He shucks on a button-up shirt, and some long, loose, pants. He needs to tie the belt off extra tight, realizing the last time he’d been clothes shopping was when he’d still had some fat on his bones.

 

Newton would be so pissed if he knew Hermann was consciously letting himself go like this. He  _ will _ be pissed, Hermann thinks. What is Hermann going to tell him after everything is over?  _ Yes I’m basically 100 pounds now Newton, so if you hug me I’m probably going to die _ . 

 

Hermann thinks of how Newton himself looks sickeningly starved and remembers he’s not the only one suffering.  _ Christ, I need to stop moping about _ . 

 

He grabs his cane, and leaves his room in a hurry.

 

* * *

 

The mess hall is relatively full, with lively young rangers all gathered at the same table together. Hermann can see Amara playing with her food, moving the fork carrying her mashed potatoes around as if it were an airplane. She flicks it at her friend and it lands right in the poor girl’s eye. The girl laughs and throws a handful of green beans in Amara’s direction. He’s glad to see she’s making more friends, and not paralleling his own childhood. 

 

Hermann gathers by the lunchline, and waits until it’s his turn, and scoops some pineapple onto his plate along with a small waffle and a packet of syrup. 

 

“Hermann fucking Gottlieb,” a familiar voice says behind him.

 

Hermann swerves around, and is greeted with a huge smile.  _ Herc Hanson _ . Hermann nearly drops his tray of food while attempting to stick out his hand in a friendly gesture.

 

“By jove, it’s been a long while, Mr. Hanson,” Hermann says with a tired smile. “You’re looking quite well. What brings you here, if I may ask?”

 

When someone bumps into Hermann’s back from behind and grumbles some  _ delightful _ curse words, Herc grins and slaps a hand over the tense mathematician’s back. “Let’s sit down and catch up.”

 

Hermann and Herc find a small two-person table by the corner of the cafeteria and Hermann politely starts to cut his waffle, with knife and fork, listening attentively to Herc’s situation. Herc had apparently retired immediately after the war, just as Hermann had expected, and gone back to live in his home with Max. He had side jobs here and there, one or two being at universities which desired his expertise with the history of the Jaegar program. 

  
“-But nothing ever really satisfied me, not like this job did you know?” Herc states. And, of course Hermann knows. He yearns to go back in time all the time, and kiss Newton on the first day they argued in that filthy lab.

 

“I thought I wanted to stay home, never come back, because of my son,” Herc fiddles with the ring on his finger. “I thought I could avoid the despair you know? People tell you you’re going to get over loss, but…” 

 

Hermann struggles to be any form of comfort. He’s not good with these sorts of social situations, and he wasn’t too familiar with Herc Hanson. Hermann eventually, albeit pathetically, mutters out, “I’m sure Chuck would be proud of you for coming back to work for Pentecost’s son.”

 

Herc grins. “Damn right, he would. It’s mostly just paperwork and statistics, but something about working in this force again really is soothing, for me anyway. Keeps me on my toes, and reminds me life is worth living, all that jazz.”

 

Hermann nods cordially, and Herc narrows his eyes in thought.

 

“You look so different without him,” he says all of a sudden. Hermann was just about to put a piece of waffle in his mouth, but he lowers his fork and swallows. 

 

“With who?” He asks innocently. He bloody well knows who. 

 

“Dr. Geiszler,” Herc says. Before Hermann can speak he adds, “I know what happened. I heard about the whole ordeal from Jake Pentecost. He gave me a sort of debriefing when I moved back here. He said I had to steer clear of the seventh level in this base, because of him. I’m sorry I knew you two-” 

 

“I don’t need your pity,” Hermann snaps with instant regret. His hands flutter around awkwardly. “My apologies, sir, I-”

 

Herc is smiling, expression surprisingly warm and he puts a hand on Hermann’s shoulder. “It’s alright kid, I know you care a lot about him. I heard what you’re doing for him. You’re braver than half this place, if you ask me. There’s only ten to twelve rangers assigned to his interrogation, and you go in there alone with nothing but your own determination.”

 

_ And my neverending agonizing love for him _ , Hermann thinks, sipping his apple juice. Orange juice had been an option, but it was too acidic for his sensitive stomach. 

 

“I have faith in you, even if that might not count for much. I have to get back to work but it’s been great talking to you, Hermann. Please take care, and good luck,” Herc pats him on the shoulder once more before bolting up and jogging to the nearest exit. Hermann had barely had the time to correct him to “Doctor” Gottlieb. But, it didn’t matter. If people who saved the world together couldn’t call each other by their first name, then what was the point of comradery?    
  


Hermann quietly finishes his waffle, and sticks a few slices of pineapple in his mouth as if he were a squirrel hoarding them for later. His mouth was so large he probably could have fit the entire waffle in his mouth, if he’s being honest with himself. 

 

Herc’s talk had distracted him from feeling ill, so lucky for him, his stomach did not stir after he was finished.

 

He glances around the mess hall once more while he throws away his tray, and his eyes lock on Jake Pentecost at a table with Nate Lambert, and they’re goggling at each other with goofy grins. Jake turns too quick for Hermann to turn away and sees him staring. With a smile and a wave, he beckons Hermann over from across the room.

 

_ Damn it. _

 

Hermann fakes a smile and hobbles over to their table to greet them. He is tired, and wants to have some time in his room to prepare mentally for the rest of the day, but he isn’t going to be rude.

 

“Good morning, Rangers,” Hermann greets with both hands rested behind his back. He notes that Nate’s hair is very unkempt and Jake is giving him a beguiled, almost drunk, smile. 

 

“Good morning Hermann,” he chirps.

 

_ What is it with higher ranking officers calling me by my first name today? _ Hermann thinks, barely suppressing a grimace and a curt response.

 

“I see you too are getting along quite well in comparison to a week or so ago,” Hermann observes. “Is that assumption correct?”

 

“He still gets on my bloody nerves, but yes,” Jake exchanges a fond expression with Nate, “We’re back on track.”

 

Nate blushes. Hermann wants to vomit. 

 

In reality, Hermann was very happy for them. They had sorted out whatever they had needed to sort out, and now they are peaceful and content, able to enjoy each other’s warm embrace at the end of the day. Hermann wasn’t sure if it was envy or his general hatred of PDA that was making him feel sick. Perhaps it was a concoction of both. 

 

“I haven’t seen you in the mess hall in a long time, especially not during breakfast,” Jake says to him with narrowed eyes. “Finally rejoining the human race, mate?” 

 

Hermann cracks a smile at this. “I’m afraid not. Having my social life consist of mission reports and speaking to an entire alien race isn’t ideal. I’ve missed dabbling in human to human interaction.”

 

Some of it wasn’t a lie. He never enjoyed coming to the mess hall because he didn’t know anybody. Hermann wasn’t a social animal in the slightest, and even when Newton had been around to drag him here, and other places such as these, he’d felt awkward and shy. 

 

Mostly, he just wanted their cinnamon waffle special today. Though speaking to Herc Hanson had been a lovely surprise. 

 

Jake is smiling, a little more sympathetically now, and he rests as hand on Hermann’s arm. “I’ll still be seeing you in a couple hours in my office?”

 

“Of course,” Hermann says quickly. “Nothing’s changed.”

 

“Just making sure,” Jake responds. “If you don’t mind, me and Nate were having a bit of a, well…”

 

“He’s too afraid to say  _ morning date _ ,” Nate eventually speaks with a laugh and one large chug of orange juice. Jake kicks him under the table, and for some unearthly reason, this is what gives Hermann a pleasant feeling. 

 

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Hermann says with a small bow of his head, before turning on his heel and scurrying towards the exit before another person could stop him in an attempt to socialize.

 

Socialization was good in miniscule portions. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Hermann’s breath catches in his throat when he sees Newton again. He wasn’t sure what it was this time, but he suspects it’s because of their last encounter. He slides his keycard into his back pocket. 

 

He’s praying he can make contact with Newton again, someway or some how. 

 

The Precursors on the other hand are not so delighted to see Hermann. They thrash in their chair, and Hermann notes it’s much more aggressive than usual. The table with the chains is gone, and it’s back to Newton being strapped to a chair by all his limbs. It looks like a real monster, veins popping, and groaning in deep octaves. 

 

_ What is wrong with it today? _ Hermann wonders.

 

“Get the _ hell  _ out of here,” it yells, baring its teeth. “He doesn’t want you here,” it tries. Hermann knows that isn’t true. 

 

“Oh really?” Hermann drags the empty chair from the corner of the room as close as he can to Newton until their knees are touching, and he crosses his arms. “Tell me what he wants me to do.”

 

“He wants you to leave and never come back,” it says with violent heavy breathing, fingers straining and scratching at the metal underneath its hands. “He wants you to--”

 

Hermann is a little bit scared. The thing is thrashing and looks completely and utterly  _ tortured _ . Did the rangers do something to him the night before to make him so--Hermann couldn’t find the right words.   
  


“--to  _ die _ ,” it hisses out. Hermann shakes his head.

 

“That’s not true. Tell me what he really wants.”

 

“Shut up, you fucker, you  _ shithead _ , you--” the thing is shaking its head frantically and then cranes its neck backward as if it’s in severe, unbridled, agony. “He won’t shut up, he won’t shut up,  _ tell him to shut up! _ ” 

 

Hermann instantly feels a hopeful stirring deep in his gut. “It...it might be beneficial for both of us if you were to allow Newton access, even for several minutes.”

 

“ _ Never _ ,” it screeches in an alien voice. “You had your time yesterday. He’s putting up a very good fight right now, we’ll give him that… he really, _ really _ , wants you. Does that satisfy you? Will you leave now?” It keels over, and groans loud and breathy. “I don’t understand humans.”

 

The Precursors aren’t thrashing anymore, their breathing patterns are still wild, but their limbs are slumping, fingers limp against the armrests. Hermann swallows in a subtle panic. Newton must be starting to give up.  _ He can’t give up _ . 

 

Hermann reaches forward on a whim, and takes Newton’s face in his hands. The Precursor’s expression turns into a scowl, and they try to escape Hermann’s touch, face retracting backwards, but Hermann digs his fingers into Newton’s cheeks, and the thrashing begins again.

 

“Get off, _ get off! _ ” 

 

Hermann is getting slightly jostled around, having to grip onto Newton’s spasming frame, but he will not relent. Newton’s back to fighting again. Hermann can feel it in his heart and in the warmth beneath his fingertips. 

 

The Precursors scream in pain, and Hermann purposefully drags his hands down Newton’s face to cup his neck affectionately, thumbs rubbing in circles. “I’m not going to let go,” Hermann’s voice cracks. “Newton please, I know you can do this.”

 

Hermann feels his own heart start to drain when the Precursors stop moving, and their breathing slows. He starts to feel helpless, utterly  _ hopeless _ that he’ll never get Newton back. They are too strong, the Precursors and their bloody alien hive mind are too damn strong!

 

Hermann drags his hands down Newton’s heaving chest, curling his fingers in the rough fabric, and begins to cry. He’s not a loud crier, he just wheezes softly, and tears start to fall. 

 

This goes on for almost thirty seconds, which feels like an eternity, but he can’t seem to stop. There is nothing but the silence of his own pathetic despair. He asks in his head to whatever is listening why he deserves this, what it was he ever did to deserve something so cruel. 

 

It would have been easier if Newton had died, and the thought ringing in his head sickens him, but having it be like  _ this _ is far more harrowing than his death. 

 

“Please,” the thing whispers from above him. Hermann stills, tears balancing on the precipice, and for a moment he can’t breathe. 

 

“Please don’t cry when I can’t hold you,” Newton croaks out. 

 

Hermann looks up to see those earnest green eyes staring back at him, and before he can even  _ think _ , he’s clambering into Newton’s lap, and throwing his arms around Newton’s neck. 

 

Newt sticks his face in Hermann’s neck wantonly, nose and mouth wet against his skin, and Hermann knows he’s itching to have his arms free. Hermann wants nothing more than to gift him that, to feel those strong hands around his middle, holding him close, but he can’t let him loose. The only thing they can do now is breathe each other in and hope this moment lasts for an eternity.

 

He is well aware Newton could disappear at any moment, and the Precursors could bite into Hermann’s jugular killing him right here, but if this was to be his last moment, it would be more than acceptable. 

 

“Hermann, I love...I love  _ this _ , but I really need to tell you something,” Newton says into his neck, and Hermann’s not sure if he’s imagining it, but he feels a small kiss on his collarbone. 

 

Hermann backs up slightly so they can look at each other again. Their foreheads are practically touching, and Hermann has the confidence to kiss him, but he doesn’t. Newton is already speaking.

 

“I expended all my energy on this visit today, Herms, you have no idea,” he breathes heavily, and Hermann places his hands back on Newton’s shoulders to steady him. “I have an idea.”

 

“Spit it out then,” Hermann whispers, listening attentively.

 

Newton chuckles nervously. “It’s kind of crazy.”

 

“I’d be worried if it wasn’t,” Hermann says with a smirk, ignoring the fact he’s still sitting on top of Newton. It felt so right, for both of them, that it went unmentioned. 

 

“I need you to drift with me,” Newton says. He says it so fast Hermann has to blink and replay the words in his head. Newton wants him to drift with him. Of course, that way maybe Hermann could fight the Precursors with him, and Newton would be saved. Why the hell didn’t he think of this before? It was brilliant, and wildly insane, just like most of Newton Geiszler’s ideas.

  
“Okay,” Hermann says.

 

“Listen, I know it sounds bad, but-” Newton stops when Hermann’s response registers, “Hang on did you just agree with me?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Holy shit,” Newton grins. “Took you twenty years.”

 

“Took you twenty years to come up with a  _ good _ idea,” Hermann jabs back with a smile threatening to creep across his face. Newton giggles.

 

_ Kiss him. _

 

Hermann’s eyes close and he imagines for a moment he isn’t in a cold, dark, cell with the love of his life strapped to a chair. When he opens his eyes Newton is staring at him like he’s some sort of god. “What is it?” Hermann asks with a laugh.

 

Newton swallows, “You’re, um, you’re--” he clears his throat. “You look really good. Barely aged, you know?”

 

Hermann blushes and trails a hand down Newt’s arm. “You look good too, though I wish they’d feed you more. You’re getting too skinny.”

 

“Yeah, I only get two meals a day in here. Kinda sucks.” 

 

“Only two?” Hermann barks. “ _ Only two?! _ ” 

 

Newton snorts. “Are you going to kill all the little old lunch ladies?”

 

“Heavens no,” Hermann snaps. “I’m going to file for an extra meal. This is outrageous!” 

 

“Good old threatening, Dr. Gottlieb,” Newton chimes. “Hey, though, Herms. The sooner we drift, the sooner it is I won’t have to have two meals a day. I have a feeling this will work. These guys, they’re so weak. I’ve had weeks where I didn’t even lift a finger to them, but they’re getting so much worse. Drifting with that Kaiju brain has stopped, so their strength in general has been deplenishing. I think we’re strong enough to defeat these things.”

  
“Yes,” Hermann says softly. “We are.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Newton asks, and damn him he can still tell when something’s off.

 

“I don’t know how we’re going to go through with this. I have to get permission from Jake Pentecost, and I don’t know how pleased he’ll be to hear this plan,” Hermann sees Newton’s hands strain in his binds. He keeps forgetting he can’t move them,

 

“You can convince him, we have to-” Newton stops speaking and his expression falls. “Hermann get off me.”

 

“What?”

 

“Get off me  _ now _ ,” he shouts and Hermann scrambles backwards, falling backwards into his own chair, before moving frantically to stand behind it.

 

He wants to go back to holding Newt. He wants to have his neck, and his cheeks, and his shoulders underneath his hands again, and we wants to kiss those lips he keeps missing. But Newton’s body is back to twitching and straining, and the thing looks up at him with an inhuman expression.

 

“We’re going to kill you,” It shrieks, voice shrill and hostile. “You’re going to die a brutal death at our hands, mark our words. Don’t you dare come back here. You’re not getting him.”   
  


“I already have him, and you’ve got it backwards,” Hermann states, not allowing more tears to resurface. He walks towards the exit, and without turning around he says, “We’re going to be the ones to kill  _ you _ .”

 

He leaves before he can hear the rest of the monster’s threats.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Later that night, Hermann finds he does not have nightmares. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out earlier than I expected, and my screenplay is suffering because of it. But, I really enjoyed making this one and got a little emotional while writing it, so I hope it has that effect for everyone. I thought this was a really solid chapter, and I'm excited to keep this story going. I have everything planned for the future, and I hope you guys like where this is going. Next chapter is going to be a doozy, but I really do have to finish my screenplay so I don't know when I'll have time to write it. It shouldn't be too long.


	6. Day Five

It was the next morning, and Hermann isn’t precisely on the proper path of convincing Pentecost of his plan,  _ Newt’s _ plan. In fact, the man had already said no multiple times, in several different tones and pitches, but Hermann was no longer one to merely stop prodding at the word “no” especially when it was given without good reason. 

 

“‘-- _ And _ you’ve already disobeyed one direct order,” Jake continues. Hermann’s arms are crossed and he’s swaying slightly in thought. 

 

“What do you mean?” Hermann finally asks. “What order could I possibly have broken, ranger? I do everything according to protocol. Surely, you’ve witnessed that,” mumbling that last bit quietly, unable to resist calling Jake out for his own subordinate behavior. “After all, I know you’re quite attentive and  _ present  _ during the security footage recordings.”

 

Jake laughs sourly. “That’s different, Gottlieb. I have multiple men in the security room making sure you don’t snap that man’s neck, and making sure he doesn’t snap yours. Would you like to hear what they reported to me about your previous visit?”

 

Hermann bites back a comment similar to;  _ well you’re going to tell me anyway so you might as well get on with it, you bastard.  _ He opts to remain silent and allows Jake to continue.

 

“You climbed on top of Geiszler and stayed in his lap for minutes, did you not?” and hell, when it’s spoken out loud like that, it sounds like such a terrible idea, and yet the words bring warm memories of that magnificent moment in his life. Hermann can’t find it within himself to regret his prior decisions. He glances up at Jake’s waiting eyes.

 

“You didn’t say I couldn’t touch him,” Hermann reminds, and watches Jake’s face curl in a tired anguish. He only feels a slight pinch of pity for the man. Jake is trying to follow protocol and keep him safe, and Hermann wishes it was within the damned rules to just be allowed to be a self-sacrificing idiot. It would make Hermann’s life a lot easier. 

 

“I said,” Jake exhales emphatically, “when it is absolutely  _ necessary. _ And I thought you were intelligent enough to gather that climbing on top of the man and using him as a chair for several minutes wasn’t exactly ethical.” 

 

Hermann rolls his eyes. Of course he’s right, but must he  _ say it in such a boorish manner? _

 

“That was foolish of me, and I would be ill-advised to do such a thing in the future, I understand,” Hermann says carefully. Jake sighs, and tenses back up when Hermann asks, “What about the drift?”

 

“I’ve said no,” Jake warns. Hermann marvels at the stature of this man and how similar he is to his father. Hermann even feels mildly intimidated by him, but not moreso than Stacker, never moreso. “Dr. Gottlieb, I will not list every single reason in the book why that is the most terrible idea either of you have crafted in the last twenty years!”

 

Hermann feels a flare of adrenaline ignite in his bones, and he slams his hands down on Jake’s desk, dropping his cane in the process. “Tell me why! Tell me why it’s the worst idea you’ve ever heard, because if I don’t have a reason, the least I’m going to do is stay in this office until you have me dragged out by force.”

 

When Jake stares back blankly and without response, Hermann’s voice breaks. “Sir, please. This is important to me.”

 

Jake may be similar to his father, but he is _ not _ his father. His expression melts, and he gestures for Hermann to sit back down, considerate of his leg. Hermann follows this order without protest, allowing Jake a moment to gather his thoughts.

 

“Hermann, when Newton Geiszler drifted with that Kaiju brain, it had repercussions that lasted years, a decade to be accurate. It’s a miracle you survived the second drift with the Kaiju without consequence of your own, and I’m sure you can understand why I don’t want another one of my vital workmates drifting with something that could potentially do to them what it did to Geiszler.” Jake watches Hermann meticulously, noticing that he’s deeply and visibly upset. He softens. “This isn’t just the Kaiju, these are the things that created those monsters, and they have intelligence that runs deeper than the millions upon millions of neural networks we harbor our brains. Drifting with Geiszler would get you caught in the crossfire, and we might have  _ another _ issue on our hands, so to speak.”

 

Hermann’s eyes snap up from where they were locked on the tile floor. “Are you saying I’d be possessed as well?”

 

“I can’t guarantee anything, mate,” Jake says gently. “I’m asking you to level with me here. I’m not taking away your right to see him every day, I just can’t allow you to drift with him. You’re forgetting you’ll be drifting with Precursors as well.”

  
“I’m well aware of how drifting works, Ranger. I’ve done it with a Kaiju brain, and I’m strong enough to do it again,” Hermann says with a bite to his voice.

 

Jake shakes his head, staring blankly into the middle distance, “I’m afraid I can’t agree, Dr. Gottlieb. Dismissed.”

 

Hermann feels every word he suddenly wants to scream and yell and _ bark, _ drown in the back of his throat, and he stands on command, ready to turn on his heel and bolt for the door, and just go back to the normal daily routine, but there’s something in his gut stopping him. He imagines it’s the same feeling Newton used to get when disagreeing with the Marshal and any other higher ranking officer that dared showed their stubborn face in their lab. 

 

It was a pure, undignified feeling, of defiance. 

 

Hermann feels his own demeanor change, and he has just about a thousand comebacks dancing on the tip of his tongue. Jake narrows his eyes when he sees the expression on Hermann’s face, unknowing that Hermann wasn’t just willing to follow orders like some lapdog. 

 

“If you were in my situation, what would you do?” Hermann murmurs, and he repeats himself. “Tell me, Ranger, what would you do?”

 

“I’d follow my orders,” Jake says with hesitance. Hermann shakes his head.

 

“If it were  _ Nate,” _ Hermann says, “And I know you, Jake. I’ve seen you in action, and I’ve seen you under pressure, and I know you’d do anything it takes wouldn’t you? You care about family above all? Wouldn’t you consider Nate your family?”

 

“This isn’t a fair debate, Gottlieb,” Jake responds callously. 

 

“Is it not?” Hermann questions, gesturing to no one. “It’s not fair that you’re not using every resource possible to help an innocent man being held hostage in his own mind. It’s not fair that we’re not allowing him access to the technology we possess that could be the source to his possible recovery. It’s not bloody fair that if you were in my situation, you would be able to order anything you wanted to be done just to save your family, and I know you would! For Nate, for Amara, for your father...for Mako.”

 

Jake stands, knocking his deck forward with the brute strength of his abrupt movement. “You’ve heard my answer,” he bellows and Hermann feels himself freeze, dreadfully forgetting how acutely the shrill voice of authority could frighten him. “I will  _ not _ change my mind.” 

 

Hermann feels the flame of defiance in his gut begin to burn out.  _ So much for that _ .

 

“Sir-”

 

“Dismissed.”

 

“Jake,” Hermann mutters, not able to make eye contact with the man in front of him, “I’m all Newton has. I promised him, he--I am all he has left.” 

 

He can see Jake’s internal struggle painted across the man’s face now that his eyes have found their way up to him. Hermann feels a pain in his heart before Jake even opens his mouth to reply. 

 

“Are you the only person he has left, or is he the only person  _ you _ have left?” Jake says, cold. 

 

Hermann can feel the sharp drop of his heart in response to the accuracy in Jake’s statement. It makes him feel vile and selfish, and before tears can find their way into the equation, he turns towards the door to Jake’s office, and leaves with nothing but a deafening silence and the click of his cane.

 

* * *

 

Hermann goes back to his quarters to cry. It’s more of just curling up in a ball, and clutching a pillow to his face more than it is a dramatic sobbing session, but the years of yearning, and waiting for Newton had allowed despair to grow like ivy around his heart, interwoven in all it’s crevices, and controlling the pace of his heart’s beating. 

 

He’s sure Newton would call him pathetic right about now. Call him a sick, pathetic, loser, who gives up too easily and brings all his problems to a pillow and a tissue box. Jake would say the same. Seeing Hermann like this on the bed, wet face pressed into his pillow, would guarantee Jake never allowing him to see Newton again. He’d be too weak and vulnerable.

 

When he feels his eyes dry, and his throat start to burn, he sits up in a daze, rubbing his eyes and regaining some of his senses. 

 

What would Newton do in this situation? It was hard to tell, and Hermann didn’t often put himself in the man’s shoes. He wasn’t sure of Newton’s own feelings towards himself, and if he reciprocated his longing. He’d assumed not for years, that anything he could consider flirting was just a defense mechanism or something Newton told any person that passed him by. Hermann likes to imagine that Newton would try anything in his power to save Hermann, and he has a feeling deep down that he just might. 

 

_ At least Newton would have been smart enough to say something about my changed behavior if I were the one possessed.  _

 

A thought pops into his head, and it’s something he hasn’t thought about in a long time. He remembers the recording Newton made before he drifted with the first Kaiju brain, and he remembers walking into their chilled-to-the-bone lab to see Newton spasming around the clutter of glowing red garbage, all different shapes and sizes, pointy, and round. A smile starts to tug at Hermann’s lips.

 

Of course, it was all rather simple wasn’t it?

 

“Newton, you clever bastard,”  Hermann mutters.  _ I love you _ , he thinks, even if no one else is with him to hear it.

 

* * *

 

Hermann didn’t visit Newton at his regular hour, and Pentecost didn’t contact him to ask him why, or to do a follow-up. Jake most likely assumed Hermann was still withering away in his room after their disastrous morning meeting. 

 

Well, that  _ absolutely _ isn’t the case, and Hermann can’t help but grin, sliding on his black gloves and sunglasses, and hobbling down the hall with his cane. He wasn’t exactly sure why he felt the need to put on sunglasses, if everyone could recognize him from his cane anyway.  It gives him a small thrill, and that’s all that really matters. 

 

He reaches the storage sector of the basement, and passes by many workers with a conviction that could have fooled Stacker Pentecost himself. It is quite true that if you look like you know where you are going, no one is going to stop you. Hermann discards his sunglasses, folding them on the hem of his shirt. He was starting to go blind with but one dim light swinging above him, on the basement ceiling. 

 

After the incident with Newton, Hermann wasn’t sure why the PPDC hadn’t locked up the equipment storage sector with tighter security. Hermann was easily able to use his all-access swipe-card and slither into the cage where the drift material was kept, unnoticed. 

 

He rummages around the supplies, looking for what he needs. He isn’t sure if he is as adept as Newton with knowledge of drifting and machinery, but he knows enough.  _ Let’s pray it’s enough _ .

 

In the moment, Hermann couldn’t name these items off the top of his head, but he knew what they looked like, and putting them together was only a matter of solving a puzzle, and he excels at equations. 

 

Hermann grabs a small cart and starts stacking on the necessary bits, along with a handful of heavy wires that cause the pain in his leg to flare up. When he’s done, he haphazardly begins to push the cart out of the small enclosed cage, and he gets about halfway to the elevator when he feels a small hand on his back.

 

_ Amara. _

 

“Hey, He-Man!” she says joyously, as if he finds that reference amusing in the slightest. There had been an absence of panic in his chest up until this moment, and he awarkly maneuvers a hand shake, though she doesn’t seem keen on one. 

 

_ Kids of this generation can’t appreciate the polite gesture of a handshake.  _

 

“What do you got goin’ on here, my dude?” she questions, curiously poking the big spherical piece, the most vital part of the drift machine.

 

Hermann almost smacks her hand away before he sees her face light up. 

 

_ Oh no.  _

 

“Are you making your own drifting device?!” she exclaims loud enough to wake a Kaiju. Hermann whips around to make sure nobody was listening and he turns back to her, wagging a long, bony finger.

 

“Young lady, I’d suggest you stay out of people’s business, that of which doesn’t involve you.”

 

“No, dude, I think it’s cool! Who do you want to drift with? Is it another one of those Kaiju brain drifts? Because I thought they were banned after Dr. Geiszler-” 

 

“I have special orders,” Hermann interrupts. “I am to drift with Newton and attempt to bring him back to our world, are you satisfied?”

 

He can’t read the almost mystified look she’s expressing, but after a few beats she lets out a small affectionate noise. “Aw! That is the sweetest thing, you’re so brave, Dr. Gottlieb.” He blinks, and looks down at his feet. He hadn’t been expecting any sort of praise for what he was about to do, but it felt good. “I hope it works out for you. I was on my way to hang out with Vik, so I’ll leave you to it.”

 

She begins walking and he swerves around. 

 

“Amara!” She turns and nods, waiting for Hermann. He gulps and tries to form words. “If you would, I’d rather you not mention this to Pentecost. I know he’s like a brother to you, but he told me this was confidential, and I was not to tell anybody. He could have my job.”

 

Amara snorts. “He wouldn’t have your job, he’s too soft for that.”

 

“Please-”

  
“But, I won’t tell em,” Amara adds with her tongue between her teeth. “Good luck!” She runs off, disappearing faster than Hermann’s dignity. 

 

* * *

 

It takes him about thirty whole minutes to reach his room, struggling to fit the entire card inside. He’s pretty sure his leg is entirely a lost cause, and he thinks maybe it fell off somewhere out in the hall, because it’s gone numb.

 

There is barely any room to move in his quarters now that there was equipment lying down in almost every patch of rug. Hermann is sitting on the ground between dirty pipes and wires, and large apparatus’ which had a mild glow about them. 

 

As he suspected it would, it took him a few hours to hook everything up correctly, and even then he wasn’t sure if it was going to work properly. He could only hope he was as smart as Newton when it came to these “do it your own” illegal projects, though he’d never admit to Newt that he’d ever dabbled in comparing their intelligence or promescuties.

 

He tries on the hat without plugging it in of course, and it fits snugly against his head, and neck. He remembers drifting with Newton. There was pain, and a constant electrical current spiraling throughout his mind, and body, turning his stomach, and causing his eyes to bleed red. Newton was the only part of that experience that had grounded him, and he ached to do it again. 

 

The feeling of their minds being connected was similar to a drug, and he was sure it was half the reason why he’d fallen further in love with the fool. He could feel Newton’s feelings, his care, his passion, and his determination not to fail, all in one heavenly mixture, feeding his brain and tending to his senses.

 

Hermann promises himself that tonight, he’ll make sure his determination does not falter either. He will see this through if it kills him, or more likely, if he loses his job. As long as Newton is sitting there trapped in his own mind, Hermann would do anything possible, take the most drastic of measures to assure his recovery. 

 

Hermann stands, feeling vile and dirty, but not caring too much, not as much as he usually would which is a feat in and of itself. He grabs one last thing from the cart, tinkering with it for about ten minutes, as he leans against the cart for support. When he hears the small metal box beep twice, he smiles tacitly. 

 

It was a lock. A lock that would take even the brightest man in the PPDC an hour to hack into, after Hermann’s coding. This would buy him as much time as possible. He wasn’t sure if Jake was going to be in the security center while he drifts with Newton, but even if he is, he’s not going to be able to stop him for a while, and that’s all Hermann needs. Time. 

 

* * *

 

After gathering all the materials back onto the cart and throwing a tarp over it to hide its contents, Hermann ignores the agonizing twinge in his leg as the blood starts to flow back to it, and moves to pushes the cart out into the hall. He thanks the lord that Newton’s cell is on his floor, so he doesn’t have to be forced through another awkward elevator trip. 

 

When he reaches the door, he takes a deep breath and swipes his card, pulling the cart in as quickly as possible and pulling it to the side when he’s in. He doesn’t look at Newton yet, he’s too busy attaching the lock to the door, but he can feel his eyes on his back, and he feels goosebumps trickle onto his skin. 

 

“What’s that you got there, Hermie?” the thing rasps, voice strained. When Hermann is finished, he turns to see Newt bloodied up, more than usual, blackened bruise covering the rise of his cheek. He suppresses the urge to go running to him.

 

“Good lord, what have they done to you?” Hermann says in shock, unable to tear his eyes away.

 

“Well,” he says loudly, almost in a shout, characteristic of Newton’s random blurts,“I kind of bit one of the rangers, and then of course the others got mad, more than just a little mad, and they went John Wick on my ass.” 

 

“I don’t doubt it,” Hermann responds. He rolls the cart closer to where Newton is strapped down, and he smirks once at the Precursors before tearing off the tarp. “Tada!”

 

“No,” it whispers the second the tarp is removed, eyes narrowed and calculating. “You didn’t--”

 

“I did,” Hermann replies proudly. 

 

“Pentecost never would have allowed this,” it spits. 

 

“Who’s to say I have Pentecost’s permission?” Hermann asks, only the smallest hint of hysteria to his tone. He takes pleasure in seeing the twisted expressions of the Precursor’s, predatorial as if they’d scratch his eyes out if he stepped any closer.

 

“We really hate you,” they hiss.

 

Hermann picks up one of the drift helmets, and circles around the back of the chair. “I wouldn’t expect any less,” he says as he attempts to place the helmet gently on Newton’s head, despite their thrashing. He smiles when it clicks shut, tightly snug around Newt’s cranium. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”

 

Hermann moves around the room, dragging a chair over to Newt, setting it up in front of him, and sits down, grabbing the other helmet and the plugs from the cart. He fits it on his head, easily, and grips the plugs in both hands, only now feeling the smallest of regrets. 

 

“Don’t,” the thing pleads and for a moment they sound like Newton, they really do. “Don’t do it, Herms, I’m scared. You’re going to kill me if you do it, please don’t.”

 

They are whimpering, and putting on quite the show. It’s a good thing Hermann has a talent for spotting when someone is faking.

 

Taking one last glance up at the security camera, he takes one big breath. He could have shut the camera off, sure, but even if the footage went blank, they’d be finding their way down here at any rate. Hermann’s hands are shaking over the plugs and he sticks them together feeling the electrical surge spiral through his veins and tickle his bones. 

 

_ There is a bright swirl of blue and white, and he feels like he’s drowning, much like before, but there aren’t memories he’s seeing like it used to be, he’s watching scenes play out almost like a film. He can see himself almost miles away, muffled voices in the distance, and suddenly it all makes sense to him.  _

 

_ Newton’s been watching through a small lense for years, praying for some form of release, and slowly falling further into a suffocating pit. Hermann couldn’t breathe, oh god he couldn’t breathe, and he attempts to move his limbs but he’s trapped in place.  _

 

_ He can’t see himself, and yet he hears tiny whispers in his head, swerving left to right, movement remaining still, and yet he could still somehow maneuver.  _

 

**_Hermann, you made it._ **

 

_ Hermann whips around, the film of the past playing on each side of the drift. The drift rings in his ears, and the muffled voices get louder as he sees the memory of the Precursors wrapping their calloused hand around his thin, vulnerable neck.  _

 

_ Newton thinks about this a lot. Thinks about how much harder he could have fought. _

 

**_I wasn’t able to refuse you._ ** _ Hermann can’t speak and feels like he’s flying through an airlock while simultaneously running to keep up with a constant direction moving in the opposite of him. He prays Newton hears him, and the second he says the words in his head, he knows Newton did. _

 

**_Hermann, I’m scared. I don’t think I can defeat them. The only time I’ve ever been able to fight back was because of you, because I was killing you, and that’ll never happen again._ **

 

**_If you’ve brought me in here to ask if you can choke me again, I’m afraid I’m forced to decline._ **

 

**_Still as warm and welcoming as ever, Hermie._ **

 

_ Hermann feels an electrical current pass through him and he feels warm and drowsy. He needs to help Newton but he can’t move. It feels like quicksand, invariably neck-deep and fatally inevitable. He feels Newton almost like a ghost on his back, and he feels hands on his shoulders, in his hair, on his hips, his arms, cheeks.  _

 

_ It’s too much all at once, and Hermann buries his feelings so they will not appear. _

 

**_Is that you,_ ** _ Hermann questions and he’s unsure in what tone this comes across.  _

 

**_I’m trying to help you out. You’re conking out. Wake up, Hermann, please. You won’t wake up._ **

 

_ Another ripple of understanding passes over Hermann in a wave, and he is suddenly irrevocably racked with fear and empathy. The Precursors are trying to drown Hermann and Newt out. They’ve had the ability to kill Newton’s consciousness for a decade now. Only moments ago, Hermann himself was giving in to the influence and the voices in his head telling him to sleep, and the languid feeling in his bones.  _

 

_ He still felt it, his eyes drooping though he had no shape in this simulation, no eyes to shut, just an impending darkness threatening to steal away his mind and soul. _

 

_ Newton had to deal with these voices and this wretched feeling for years. It would be so easy for Hermann to shut his eyes right now, and for his consciousness to disappear into the void the Precursors created, like a trash bin for the unwanted. How had Newton coped? _

 

**_It was difficult I’ll tell you that,_ ** _ Newton says in his ear and Hermann doesn’t need to be outside of the drift to know he’s red, head to toe. Newt can hear the thoughts that he isn’t purposefully transmitting to him.  _

 

_ If Hermann wasn’t careful, Newton would find out that he- _

 

_ And suddenly he’s hit with a stronger wave, and as if it were real, it knocks the breath out of him and he’s spiraling into a new section of this drift, spinning and choking from the onslaught of memories. Every unspoken confession, every meaningful glance, every bloody thought in Newton’s head about Hermann.  _

 

**_I love you_ **

 

**_I wish you’d look at me in the way I look at you._ **

 

**_I’d have you right now if you asked me._ **

 

**_Please see me._ **

 

**_I want you more than I’ve wanted anything_ **

 

_ And even though in reality, Newton never showed penance during their fights or any sort of polite, well-deserved remorse, Hermann sees the nights all those years ago where Newton is curled up on his bed, praying that he hasn’t gone too far this time, and hoping that he wouldn’t wake up to find Hermann gone. _

 

**_I’d never leave you,_ ** _ Hermann thinks clear as day _ **_. I’d do anything for you._ **

 

_ The thoughts and feelings from years of lost time hit him in seconds, and he’s certain his own thoughts and feelings are being tossed around in Newton’s own consciousness, because Newton is silent, and yet Hermann can feel a positive warmth from him, even behind the intensity of the drift.. Noise louder than explosives, and spinning and turning faster than the speed of light, blinded by blue dark and light, can’t muffle the feelings they’ve both been harboring for years on end. _

 

**_Newton_ ** _ , is all Hermann can think, hear, or speak. _

 

**_Newton._ **

 

_ The drowsiness takes him over again, and it feels like a drug his body is so desperately begging for. He wishes he could sleep and fall and stay in the drift, to sink into these feelings of love for the rest of his life. But, Newton, the Precursors, the  _ **_plan!--_ **

 

**_Hermann, you need to leave, you’re not going to make it._ **

 

**_Yes, yes I will, I need to save you-_ **

 

**_They know you’re here they’re expending all their energy on you, please, Hermann, I shouldn’t have brought you here, I-_ **

 

**_I love you,_ ** _ Hermann thinks, says, he’s unsure. But, he knows Newton hears it.  _

 

“Gottlieb!” he hears a separate voice in the distance, and he tries to figure out who it is, but darkness seems to be engulfing him. He thrashes, but nothing works. Oh god, is he going to die? Did the Precursors achieve their goal?

 

_ Newton where are you? _ But suddenly he can no longer feel their connection. He panics, and his head is pounding and throbbing as he’s searching for that comforting warmth in his head but there is nothing but a cold dysequilibrium.  _ Newton come back.  _ __  
  


“Dr. Gottlieb, can you hear me?” Perhaps there is darkness in death, and a voice he can’t seem to put a name too, and then he sees flashes of light, and his eyes are fluttering open.  _ Oh. _

 

Jake Pentecost. Hermann’s senses start to return to him, and there is a tingling in his fingers and his legs from where he’s collapsed on the floor. Jake is holding the drift helmet in his hands, and saying something that Hermann can’t hear.

 

The ringing in his ears is too loud. He glances up to see Newton’s body passed out, breathing evenly, another ranger holding his helmet. Hermann can feel blood trickling from his nose to his lips, and he tastes iron.

 

“Gottlieb, are you listening?!” Jake shouts.

 

The ringing turns into a massive headache, and Hermann raises a hand to his forehead, sighing in discomfort. “ _ Newton _ ,” he repeats in a breathy whisper. It’s all he can focus on even as his head is reeling and his limbs feel like jelly. 

 

“Bring him to the medical bay,” Jake orders a handful of rangers, and he feels himself being lifted and carried out of the cell. He strains to see Newton, to see if he’s waking up. And he shudders to think about what it’s like to be in his mind, suffocating, and nothing but the absence of light and deadened voices to ground him. 

  
Hermann feels his own eyes roll back into his head as his spinning head forces him into unconsciousness. “ _ Newton _ ” was the last breath on the tip of his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so damn tired, I'm posting this at 1:28 am. But, I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I'm not sure I enjoy writing the drift too much because there is too broad of a space to work with, but things are about to start getting wild, and I hope you like where this is going. Thanks for reading, all!


	7. Day Six

Hermann woke up the next day in the med bay. A wiry nurse looms over him, tending to him with a cold cloth pressed against his forehead. She looks almost like an angel with her hair tied up into a round, blonde bun, and Hermann thinks for a moment he might be dead. When she sees he is waking, she hands him a pill and a small cup of water and tells him to swallow. The pills melts on his tongue slightly, and it tastes bitter. He hasn’t reached the golden gates yet.

 

Hermann thinks of the heat and the unbridled comfort he’d felt in the drift, despite the other dreary aspects of it. Feeling Newton’s presence again had been like seeing for the first time, taking your first step into a bubbling ocean, perhaps it felt like parasailing off a large cliff, though Hermann had never attempted something so dangerous. Maybe if Newton asked him to do it with him, he’d be amenable.

 

“Doctor Gottlieb, don’t doze back off, please,” the woman’s voice says clearly. He blinks a few times, ridding himself of the morning mist in his eyes obstructing his view . The medical bay wasn’t comforting in the slightest. Everything from the beds to the walls were bright white, pristine, and blinding. He rubs his eyes with his hands and feels a sharp pain in his leg as he sits up. His hand flies to his hip. 

 

“You’re free to go,” the nurse notes. “We took all the tests last night while you were unconscious. Everything checked out as normal. Ranger Pentecost has requested you see him in your office as soon as you’re able.”

 

“Thank you,” Hermann grumbles. He waits for her to walk away before he climbs out of the bed in the twice worn rags he feels he’s been wearing for months. When he stands, the sharp pain in his hip connecting to his lower leg intensifies and he moves his hand around for his cane, feeling relief once his weight was cast off of it.

 

He’s inclined to take a small trip to his quarters before he meets with Jake. If he’s going to be scolded, he might as well smell good. Or at least look presentable. He pushes down his apprehension and makes his way out of the dizzying room. 

 

\---

 

“Once a week,” Hermann says, resolve crumbling. “ _ Once a week? _ ”

 

“You heard me,” Jake says. They’re in his office, and Hermann is standing in front of him feeling like just another one of his lowly rangers he treats thoroughly indifferent. Hermann feels a heavy cramp deep in his chest, and it takes all his effort not to collapse.

 

It wasn’t like he could just break the rules again and go in to see Newton whenever he pleases. Jake will surely revoke his all-access swipe card and up the security surrounding Newt’s cell. Maybe he’ll even move Hermann’s quarters to another level of the Dome.

 

He could beg. Right now, he could collapse on his knees, the ache be damned, and cry to Jake pathetically, tell him he knows he’ll go insane if he doesn’t see Newton at least once a day. He wants to see him more than once a day, but it those restrictions had been something he could bare. Hermann wouldn’t be able to cope with this.

 

Jake watches him silently, stricken with some form of regretful disappointment. It was a perfect sickly mixture that made Hermann’s stomach churn and his heart clench. 

 

“I know what you’re thinking, Gottlieb. But, you’re not going to be able to convince me to change my mind, that’s that.” Before Hermann can open his mouth to respond Jake adds, “Yes, I’m sorry this had to happen, and I wish it could be different. You’re lucky I’m only limiting your visits and not banning you from this floor entirely.”

 

Well, at least his room wasn’t getting relocated. 

 

“Hermann, try to understand I’m supposed to be going by protocol, and if I start making exceptions, everybody working under me is going to expect me to pay up when the time comes for them,” Jake explains. Hermann wishes he could empathize, even sympathize, but he’s angry. And that red wave of animosity is boiling up inside of him, and clouding his senses.

 

“If you’re so keen on your protocol, Ranger, I’d suggest calling me by my official title,” Hermann snaps. Jake doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t even look him in the eye. He leans back in his seat and clasps his hands together.

 

“Well, then, Doctor Gottlieb. One more thing before you leave. There has been some technical difficulties with our system’s computer and lock down system, so it’ll be impossible to downgrade your swipe key to quarters and cafeteria. Normally I would confiscate it from you since you’ve broken my trust, and I don’t have confidence you can contain yourself, but you’ll need it to get into your room. Our technicians are estimating that the computers will be fixed by midnight, can I  _ please _ trust you to return here tomorrow morning with your key card?”

 

Hermann’s heart skips a beat and fights the smile threatening to crack his deadpan features. 

 

“Yes you can trust me,” he says smoothly. He’s even half sincere. Jake sighs with relief. 

 

“Dism-”

  
“Sir,” Hermann interrupts. “May I ask you about a personal matter? I promise it is not to beg.”

 

Jake raises a brow and then gestures at the seat in front of him. Hermann sits, and he grips the arms of the chair for a moment while he gathers his thoughts. Yes, he’s angry. He’s bloody pissed. But, Jake is also the only person he’s been talking to on a regular basis on matters other subjects related to work and mathematics. 

 

Plus, perhaps if he bears his soul a little bit, Jake will understand him more and be more inclined to repeal the constrictions he’s created. Mostly, he just wants advice. Hermann doesn’t want to ask out front. He doesn’t want to be blunt, even though everyone in the PPDC knows that he has a thing for Newton. Instead he asks first about Jake.

 

“How is everything going with Nate?” 

 

Jake’s expression falters and he regresses momentarily with a childish response. “Is this really what you wanted to talk about? Me?”

 

“I do care,” Hermann says quickly, in reassurance. “As a friend or an acquaintance, whatever you prefer. Although, I know you have your own friends you speak personally too, so I’m putting you under no pressure to speak to me about your personal-”

 

“It’s okay, Hermann. It’s okay,” Jake softens and he clicks his tongue. “Let’s speak as friends, then. If you really want to know, it’s not going too well.”

 

“That was fast. You’ve been together a day and already there’s trouble?” Hermann asks, genuinely curious.

  
“Judging me?” Jake asks, though there is no bite. Hermann shakes his head politely.

 

“I don’t know the story, Jake. How could I possibly judge?” 

 

Jake shifts in his seat, eyes flickering back and forth between Hermann’s sweater vest and the paperwork on his desk. “It’s not a you thing, but I’d rather not discuss the specifics of the argument. I haven’t even told my closest friend the specifics. But, it was silly, and irrational, and I’m sure we’ll get over it.”

 

“If you know you’ll get over it, why does it distress you so much?” Hermann questions. It seems that if Jake had figured out the pattern of these quarrels, they shouldn’t be so jarring. 

 

“Yeah it’s not exactly the present fight that’s causing me the most distress. It’s the possibility that in the future there’s going to be a breaking point, and we’re not going to be able to come back from it,” Jake says quietly. Hermann believes he understands.

 

“Do you love him?” Hermann asks.

 

“Oh, I don’t know-” 

 

“You either know or you don’t,” Hermann states. “Are you in love with him?”

 

“Yes,” Jake admits. “Yes, for years. So many years.”

 

“And have you told him?”

 

Jake’s head snaps up. Hermann gives him a waiting look, as if it’s not that big of a deal. As if Jake didn’t constantly dread the moment he would have to tell Nate to his face that he was in love with him; he doesn’t do well with legitimate moments of intimacy. 

 

“No, of course not. We’ve been dating for two days,” Jake huffs. 

 

Hermann knows better. He’s been in love with Newton since the first few letters they’d sent back and forth, and he knew that in any of those years he could have told him and Newton would have reciprocated openly and ecstatically. There didn’t need to be a label to come to an understanding of true love, if had been deeply rooted there for years. It needs to be acknowledged before it can be poisoned and swallowed into the ground. 

 

“But, this surpasses labels and longevity, Jake.” Hermann watches his eyes fall to his lap, almost in a move of shame as if Hermann’s painted him into a corner. “Tell him how you feel, Jake. Be genuine, and I guarantee it’ll reduce any likelihood that you will have more petty arguments in the future.”

 

“You’re right,” Jake says faintly, and Hermann raises a brow.

 

“ _ Yes _ , yes you’re right,” Jake repeats louder. Hermann lets out a small satisfied huff and he says, “I’m right about a lot of things.”

 

“Yeah maybe so,” Jake replies, biting the inside of his cheek. 

 

‘“I have a question if it’s not a bother,” Hermann says and Jake looks up at him. He feels the pressure weighing down on him and he gulps stringing his words together in his mind before speaking. “How do you know when it’s the perfect moment to kiss someone you love?”

 

Jake laughs and if it wasn’t for Jake’s own lack of self-worth or efficacy in the present moment, Hermann would have assumed he was being made fun of. 

  
“Hermann, if I find the secrets of love, I’ll tell you mate,” Jake eventually says.

 

“If you had a guess though, you’re more experienced with this than I am,” Hermann whispers in a plea. His situation was catastrophically different than Jake’s of course, and despite everything, romance had been on his mind since yesterday. More specifically, Newton had been on his mind, and the whole mutual love experience they’d shared in the drift had left him hopeful and yearning for more. Which is why, in all honesty, him being cut down to one visit per week was so arduous, and  _ confining _ . 

 

“Well, I’d say do it when you want to,” Jake responds plainly. 

 

Hermann grumbles. “And what if the other person doesn’t want to?”

  
“Well, in that case, wouldn’t that mean you both aren’t in love?” 

 

“No!” Hermann squawks, and then composes himself. “I mean what if he, they-- _the_ _other person_ just isn’t ready?”  

 

“You’ll know when they’re ready. At least that I can say with certainty,” Jake says and Hermann glances down at his feet. There is no hiding who Hermann is talking about, and he’s surprised Jake isn’t telling him that kissing their prisoner isn’t going to pass, that he’s going to stop him from going to Newton’s cell indefinitely. Jake just stares, almost knowingly, until he leans back in his chair and the creak of it breaks the silence.

 

“Hermann you should rest today, I mean it. You look really burned out.”

 

“Is that an order sir?” Hermann says with a dry laugh.

 

“No, but I’m asking you nicely,” Jake replies with a toothy grin. Hermann felt the fatigue in his bones, and he thinks he might do just that. 

 

When Jake dismisses him, he hobbles down the hall with his cane and finds his room, swiping his card, and collapsing haphazardly onto his bed. He could sleep right now, even though he’d slept through the morning in the medical bay. 

 

He allows his eyelids to flutter and he feels drowsiness taking it’s hold. When he nearly slips into unconsciousness, he has a sudden recollection of Newton screaming for him to wake up. 

 

**_They know you’re here they’re expending all their energy on you, please, Hermann, I shouldn’t have brought you here, I-_ **

 

Hermann scrambles up, grabbing handfuls of the bedsheets in shock. He feels the vistage of electrical surges that had been coursing through his mind rush through his veins as if he’d been shocked awake. Newton’s voice is ringing loud in his ears and he slaps his cheek hard, and the sting is a temporary fix.

 

Remnants of the drift, he should have expected this. But, Hermann just wants to sleep. 

 

Hermann stays on his bed, digging his nails into a pillow as a way to bare through the residual elements of the drift, the voices and the high pitched ringing causing his head to throb. It would be comforting to have Newton’s voice in his head if it wasn’t paired with mortified urgency, and the deafening influence of the Precursors. 

 

It was overwhelming enough for him to tremble and for tears to well up in his eyes. He didn’t allow them to spill over, shoving his face in the pillow he was clutching onto for dear life. 

 

The voices and the noises eventually begin to subside, and he finds himself sinking into sleep, waking hours later with a start, eyes groggy with sleep. 

 

He hadn’t felt this exhausted since his first year at college. The more sleep he got, the worse he felt, and the more his bones ached. He pulls himself up, and starts tearing off his clothes and throwing them in a heap in the corner. The small voice of reason and order in the back of his mind screams at him, but he needs to shower, he doesn’t have time to fold them. Hermann’s become what he’s always hated; a disorderly, filthy, and homely individual. Something he would have delighted to refer to Newton as a long time ago. 

 

Taking a shower wakes him up, and loosens the tension in his muscles. It’s a good thing too, because he almost collapses when he glances at the clock in his bedroom afterwards. It’s 7pm? How long did he sleep? He thought he’d just taken a nap, but the day was nearly over.

 

_ Newton’s been in there wondering why I haven’t visited him all day _ . He flounders around for his keycard in his back pocket, but remembers instantly he can’t use it and kicks his deck. His stomach growls and he thinks maybe getting food would be a good distraction.

 

He grabs his parka after checking the forecast, and heads out.

 

* * *

 

Hermann never leaves the PPDC. He doesn’t like to, there’s nothing to do, other than go to a few restaurants that ignorantly placed themselves in the middle of nowhere. Yet, here he was, sitting in a fast food restaurant, fur around the hood of his parka soaking wet, and he’s eating a cheap salad and yogurt like some sort of savage.

 

If he’d stayed in the PPDC one second longer, he knew he would have been inclined to go to Newton’s cell and do god knows what. Talk to him? Hermann shoves a too-big spoonful of yogurt into his mouth, cringing at the tangy chemical strawberry flavor to it. Hug him again? Hermann grumbles and shoves another spoonful of yogurt in his mouth to aid his stress.

 

Would he rather lose the privilege of visiting Newton entirely or continue to be socially humiliated by eating a yogurt and salad as the sole customer in some run-down fast food facility? The choice was a difficult one, and he humored himself imagining Newton reacting to him even dwelling on the situation.

 

_ I would think I’m more important than some crap yogurt, also why eat that when you can have Danimals? _

 

 _God,_ Hermann thinks. He’s so pathetic he’s creating his own banter. Hermann thinks he might need to get out more, though Newton truly is the only company he needs. _Wants._

 

* * *

 

 

Hermann is on his way back to the PPDC. He’s walking in the dark, and the rain is heavy, and unfortunately he’s starting to have trouble seeing where he’s going. A car zooms by him, and he stumbles, tightly gripping his cane. 

 

Another car doesn’t whip by until precisely four minutes later, and this time he loses his footing on the sidewalk, his cane slips from underneath him, and he falls face first onto the pavement of the sidewalk. His cane drops down the hill to the left of him, falling into the abyss below the forest he can’t even see because it’s shrouded in shadows. 

  
“Blast!” he curses and scrambles up from the ground, only now feeling the sting on his palms from where he crash landed into the concrete. Hermann shouldn’t have walked this far out. It was an idiotic decision, especially with his leg, and the way it aches as he strides.

 

His pants were sticking to his skin, and the parka was no longer being all that helpful in covering most of him from the storm. He crosses his arms, feeling cold and stiflingly destitute as he walks back to his base, alone. 

 

* * *

 

Impossibly, he does find his way back to the entrance of the PPDC, and the individual at the front desk looks mortified upon seeing him. “Doctor Gottlieb, should I call the nurse?”

 

Did he really look that bad?

 

“No, I’m fine thank you,” Hermann croaks, handing the man his key card. The man lets him in and gives him his card back. 

 

“You’re bleeding,” he adds, face retracting as if it were too horrible to look at. Hermann’s jerks his hand upwards and feels around his face, brushing over a small scrape on the top of his forehead. The blood mixed with the rainwater drips down his finger and he wipes his shaky hand on his parka. It must have been that fall. 

 

“I’ll be fine. I’m going back to my quarters.” 

 

“Sir, where’s your cane? Are you sure you don’t need assistance?” The man calls after him. Hermann quickens his pace without responding, and realizes he must look like a wounded Kaiju wobbling around unevenly down the hall in his dripping parka.

 

When he reaches his room, that’s when his leg truly starts to flare up. He collapses to the floor, not able to reach the bed, and grips his hip, kneading the flesh around his thigh roughly. He bites his lip to keep from groaning, and waits for the waves of agony to subside enough for him to stand and settle on the bed.

 

After taking off his parka and tossing it on the ground along with other garments of laundry, he catches a glimpse of the picture of he and Newt on his desk, looking indescribably content and the next moment he finds himself making small strained noises, chucking his pillows off the bed in a hazed rage. The pillow knocks down his lamp and it shatters. He tugs at his unmade bed, ripping the sheets up from the mattress and tossing them in every which way, and he punches hard into the buoyant platform, one, two, three times. It’s not so often he screams, but on this occasion he finds he cannot keep quiet.

 

Hermann curses under his breath and sinks down when he realizes he’s punching a bloody  _ mattress  _ and he digs his nails into the fabric, limbs giving. Exhausted, he falls completely onto his back and looks up at the clock. 

 

11:30

 

Hermann gets a thought. Well, it’s a thought he’s been having all day. He moves instantly, to stand. 

 

They would have to kill him first before keeping him away from Newton. They’d have to bind him in inescapable shackles before he’d ever give up on saving him. He hops up from his bed, and grabs a spare cane from his closet. He was running out.

 

He doesn’t bother looking in the mirror before he leaves his room. Hair be damned, leg be damned, scars be damned. He digs into his back pocket and pulls out his key card, swiping it to enter Newton’s cell. 

 

He’s still wet, hair dried only slightly and he shoves his key card back into his pocket. He moves towards Newton who is sitting silently in his seat, staring directly at him. Hermann walks forward, face not betraying his intentions, and he kicks a stray chair in front of Newt to the side and stands above him, unmoving.

 

Newton gulps, and he’s silent. They stare at each other for a moment, and it’s not intimate, it’s not warm and inviting. It’s detached. Hermann is waiting, and he’s stalling. He wants the moment to be perfect, the right moment. The Precursors don’t speak, and Hermann isn’t sure if who he’s with even is the Precursors, if it’s Newton, or if it’s a mixture of both. Perhaps Newton had been able to silence the Precursors just enough when Hermann walked in. If that’s the case, he’s expending a significant amount of energy. 

 

Hermann leans down on one knee, his good knee, and he takes Newton’s face in his hands. Blood is rushing through his veins and his pulse is pounding in his ears. The Precursors don’t resist. They stare back at Hermann and Newt’s eyes start to flutter when he rubs his thumbs in circles over his cheeks, seemingly ready to collapse under his touch.

 

_ You’ll know when they’re ready _ , Jake’s voice is as clear as day in his head. He prays he’s not making the most idiotic and insolent decision of his life, and he prays that he’s not overstepping his bounds. “Newton I’m here,” he whispers soothingly, his eyes glistening under the dim light. 

 

Newton stares back, green eyes wide, and pupils miniscule as if he were vacant, as if both the Precursors and Newton had left Hermann with nothing but a breathing meat sack. Hermann doesn’t care what is sitting in front of him, he knows Newton is a part of it.

 

Hermann swallows his trepidation, and leans forward, pressing his lips against Newton’s. The  moment isn’t ideal, it isn’t the moment he’s been dreaming of; it’s not the mountain-top picturesque sunset dreamscape Hermann used to imagine on his nights alone in the lab. But his lips are pressed up against Newton’s and it’s wet, and it’s cold, but there is warmth everytime Newton’s lips twitch, and he presses forward, mind buzzing. Hermann keeps his grip on Newton’s face, and he tries not to whimper when Newton doesn’t open his mouth or return the kiss in any fashion. He pulls away reluctantly, looking down at the collar of Newt’s shirt to avoid his eyes. Fuck.

 

_ What the hell did you expect? _ Hermann chastises himself. He’s just wasted he and Newton’s first kiss in this freezing, dark,  _ prison _ cell. Newton probably didn’t even feel it, and the Precursors are toying with him and are about to spit in his face, and tell him he’s pathetic, worthless, vile-

 

There is an onslaught of lips, and heat, and a surge of lust Hermann momentarily connects with as if they were drifting, and Newton’s lips are back on his, open, tongue prodding. Hermann moans softly in surprise, kissing back, and momentarily forgetting his own name. Newton nips gently at Hermann’s bottom lip, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. He’s pulling at his restraints and he begs with urgency against Hermann’s lips, “Please. Please just, I promise, I’m not-”

 

Hermann doesn’t need him to finish the sentence, he’s already reaching under the chair to swipe his card and he hears the shackles around his wrists unlock and abruptly, Newton is pulling Hermann back into his lap and pushing his face into his neck. Hermann feels warm, and dizzy with Newton’s hands pressed firmly against his back, searching, almost as if he were mapping his body to remember. 

 

“Kiss me again,” He pleads, “Please.”

 

Hermann is more than willing, but he’s stricken with a sudden realization of his situation. Newton seems to understand this and he cups Hermann’s face in his hands. 

 

“You gotta trust me, Herms, you have to.” 

 

Hermann leans forward and kisses Newton again, and  _ oh _ , this is better, it’s slower. Newt reaches his hands up to thread them through Hermann’s hair, and he’s been touch-starved for so long he finds himself mewling feebly into Newton’s mouth, and he very nearly dies when he feels Newton smile against his cheek. 

 

Newton’s fingers brush over the scar Hermann recently earned and he frowns, looking him in the eyes. “Who did this to you?” he asks with such genuine concern, Hermann fights the urge not to kiss him again as an answer.

 

“A very rude sidewalk,” Hermann whispers with a smile. Newton laughs and grips his neck, then his shoulders, then his hips. “Hermann I don’t feel them.”

  
“What?” Hermann’s eyes bulge. “Are you serious?”

  
“This is the first time since I first felt them, that they’ve been this silent, I don’t know why,” Newt says urgently and quickly, edging towards manic. “Hermann, god, Herms, I love you. It’s been such a long time again, I’ve forgotten what it’s felt like to exist and, want. I want you Hermann, I’ve wanted you for so long, you don’t even know.”

 

Hermann’s breathing hitches, and this time he pulls Newt up by his collar, kissing him within an inch of his life. “I know,” he whispers against Newton’s lips and both of them shudder in unison. Hermann is unsure if it’s because of their connection through the drift or not. They kiss again, and for a short while, Hermann feels like he’ll never need anything more. 

 

And then, several moments later, he feels hands that are not Newton’s on his hips pulling him back. It was a ranger, or two, or three maybe. The ability to count is lost to him as he’s lifted off of Newton’s lap. He thrashes violently when he realizes he’s being dragged away. Another ranger circles around him, and forces Newton back into his shackles.

 

“Unhand me!” Hermann screeches. “You have no right-”

 

“No,  _ you  _ had no right,” one of the rangers says, and Newton is compliant as he’s locked back into place. Hermann’s heart drops, and he transcends his own rage and despair, giving in to hysterics. 

  
“He’s not them anymore, stop!” The ranger holding him pauses at the entrance to the cell, listening. “Newton, Newton please tell them they’re gone, like you told me.”

 

Newton’s jaw clenches and he nods slowly. He’s nervous. Nervous he’s wrong, nervous that perhaps he deserves to be in chains. Hermann knows that look. “Yes. I can’t feel their presence anymore.”

 

“He’s toying with you,” a ranger says plainly, and they drag him completely out of the cell. Hermann kicks and squirms, and begs most likely, he’s incoherent, and unsure of what he’s doing. Newton is in there, and the Precursors are gone for now, and Newton is fucking _ in there _ . 

 

Hermann sees Newton’s panicked expression as the door slides closed. Hermann bangs his fists against it, and reaches for his keycard to see it has already been confiscated in his fiery haze. When he starts to come down, he turns and stalks towards the ranger that had manhandled him out of the cell, and he pushes him with both hands. 

 

“Take me to speak to Jake Pentecost,  _ now! _ ”

 

“It’s midnight, sir.”

  
Hermann inches closer to him, and gets close enough to spit in his face. “You will take me to Pentecost or I will sooner have you in a hospital, young man. Take. Me. To. Him.  _ Now!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got my screenplay done, which means I'm going to have a lot more time to work on this! I really enjoyed making this chapter, and though I'm not confident in my skills writing a kiss scene, I think I did okay. Please enjoy! I hope nothing feels too forced or too rushed. I appreciate your support and input, so thank you for giving me so much inspiration to keep going with this piece. This fic holds a special place in my heart <3


	8. Day Seven

“Ranger!” Hermann shouts briskly, before barging into his office. Jake spins around in his chair, phone to his ear and he nearly drops it at the sight of Hermann. He must look quite the spectacle,damp from the rain, hair straggled, bleeding in more places than one if not bruised in several. Jake gives an abrupt parting message to the person on the other end of the phone, and hangs up. 

 

There is a ranger beside Hermann, still holding his arm and he tears it away, moving around the room frantically, almost pacing. “We found him in Geiszler’s cell, sir,” The Ranger says slowly.

 

“ _ Hermann, _ ” Jake groans incredulously. “Hermann, christ I thought you were better than this.”

  
“They’re gone,” Hermann says hastily, ignoring his superior’s comment. “The Precursors. Newton said he no longer feels their presence, they’re gone! Jake, you don’t need to keep him locked up anymore. If you were to release him--”

 

“Slow down, slow down!” Jake says. “You’re saying the Precursors have been eradicated? How do you know this for certain?” Hermann is about to respond, but Jake waves at the ranger still behind him, gesturing for him to leave.

 

When the door clicks shut, Jake nods at him to continue. Hermann speaks frantically, stumbling over his words despite every attempt to sound coherent. “Newton wouldn’t lie. He’d never lie to me. If he says they’re’ gone, then they are, and I don’t know how he did it or if it had anything to do with me, but Jake-”

 

“Hermann, I’m going to have to stop you there, mate,” Jake interrupts.

 

Hermann deflates. “What?”   
  


“It could be the Precursors, Hermann. Did you stop to think about that? They’re good actors. They fooled whole organizations for ten years, they fooled  _ you _ . What makes you think they couldn’t fool you now?”

 

“They didn’t fool me for ten years. For ten years, I existed knowing that the man I loved had changed, and I had to live with that.” Hermann barely realizes that he’s just confessed his love for Newton so openly and blatantly, the whole PPDC could have heard it. They knew anyway. “For ten years, I knew something was wrong and that something was different, but I accepted it because I harbored no confidence to confess or to confront. For ten  _ bloody  _ years, I stood by and wallowed in my own self-pity while he was drowning in his own mind, so damn you for assuming I wouldn’t know who the real thing is. I know it’s him, because I know what I’ve been lost without for the past decade.” Hermann is breathing heavily, and he’s certain he’s sweating and maybe even tearing up a bit, but he’s also shaking with adrenaline and unequivocal determination.

 

Jake stares up at him from his seat, heeding his words attentively. “Would you be amenable to resting up and returning to me early in the morning? We can discuss this further and come to a compromise.

 

“But, he’s in there  _ now, _ ” Hermann urges. “He’s in there alone, and frightened, and writhing in his own guilt, and what if they come back?”

 

“I thought you said you were positive the Precursors have been banished from his mind,” Jake says and Hermann’s mouth snaps shut.

 

Jake sighs. “I’m not trying to attack you mate, but I won’t allow anything unless you agree to these terms okay? You’ll come back with a clear head and your thoughts will be articulately sorted out. I promise I’ll do something about your visitation privileges in your favor, if you just, please, agree to get some rest for now,” he says. “Is that fair?”

 

More than fair, if Hermann’s being honest, but he still aches to be back with Newton. Knowing he is conscious and in control of his own body and not being able to be in the same space as him has proven more painful than when he was possessed. 

 

“Early,” Hermann agrees. “Very early.”

 

“Seven,” Jake says.

 

“Five,” Hermann confers.

 

“Six,” Jake eventually grumbles in a compromise. “Go get your few hours of rest, Hermann. Trust me when I say you’ll need it. I’ll consider what you’ve told me today, and I’ll try to be open-minded about this. But, I hope you understand we can’t have blind faith in him, he’s still the victim of an intense alien possession. Anything could happen.”

 

Stricken with the calm sensation of knowing Newton would be there waiting for him in the morning, he responds softly. “Yes, of course, I understand.”

 

When he’s dismissed, he does as he’s ordered for once, feeling like a ghost drifting down the hall. He barely remembers climbing into bed, and does not remember remaining in his clothes prior to doing so. Hermann drifts off to sleep, listening to the muffled ticking of the clock above him. 

 

He doesn’t dream. 

 

* * *

 

Hermann wakes the next morning, feeling better than he has in months. His limbs don’t ache as much, and the pain has been subdued to a dull roar. His eyes and mouth don’t feel tacky, and when he brushes his teeth, his gag reflex doesn’t act up. He didn’t have time for a shower, but he changes his clothes, washes his face, and applies some weak cologne before heading back out  to Jake’s office. 

 

There isn’t much time for thought. Every thought is Newton, and there are so many thoughts spinning in his brain that he can’t focus on just one, and so his mind turns to static.

 

He finds himself moving faster than usual, allowing his cane to carry him down the hall in a dazed rush. Hermann doesn’t knock when he reaches Jake’s office, and enters half expecting him to not be there. But, Jake is sitting there waiting, eyes looking tired, but he’s still courteous, and gestures for him to sit down.

 

“Please tell me you got some rest too, Ranger,” Hermann says with a raised brow. Jake laughs and nods languidly.

 

“Yeah, I’m afraid not as much as usual though.” 

 

Hermann almost wants to apologize for being the cause of that, but this was important, more important than missing a few hours of rest. He waits expectantly for Jake to speak, and is ready to bolt out the door the second he’s allowed passage into Newton’s cell.

 

“Are you feeling better?” Jake asks. “Eat breakfast?”

 

“I was feeling fine last night,” Hermann replies, unknowingly bouncing his good leg. This better not take too long. Hermann despises small talk as it is, and this was already agonizing. “And I get sick if I eat while I’m anxious.”

 

“You may have felt fine, but you were hysterical yesterday,” Jake notes. “I couldn’t just let you go back to the cell. But, if you’re feeling better, I spoke to Newton yesterday--”

 

“What did he say?” Hermann squawks. His lips part and leans forwards almost like a starving puppy. “Did he mention me?”

 

A smile cracks Jake’s features. “He didn't shut up about you. He asked about you all night, and according to my rangers, he’s still asking for you right now.” 

 

Hermann takes a deep breath, and suddenly feels thoroughly content.

 

“I want you to see him today,” Jake adds. Hermann tenses up. “He’s managed to convince me, and though I still believe there is a chance this could be a farce, I don’t see the issue with allowing you to visit him as long as you don’t do anything stupid like remove his shackles with your keycard, again.”

 

Hermann laughs nervously, and bites his lips. He did do that didn’t he? He isn’t too embarrassed. Anything he should be feeling, such as shame or awkwardness is shrouded with drunken feelings of elation. 

 

He’s reminded of something.

 

“Speaking of my keycard, one of your officers confiscated mine from me last night. I had to do a manual override to get into my quarters,” Hermann informs.

 

Jake frowns. “I never ordered them to confiscate your keycard.”

 

Hermann tilts his head in thought. Perhaps he’d dropped it, or one of the rangers had gotten their orders confused. Jake is typing at his computer now, preparing to print another one for him, and Hermann waits patiently to receive it. 

 

After five minutes of humbly waiting for the ID printer to unjam, Jake finally hands him a blue all-access keycard. Hermann smiles, remembering only the day prior Jake almost taking this privilege away. “I’m giving you an hour today,” Jake says, “We still need time with him after you.”

 

Hermann glances up, “For what?” 

 

Jake swallows and shifts in his seat. “It’s not information you need to know, Dr. Gottlieb.” Hermann glowers at him and quickly puts the pieces together.

 

“You’re not-”   
  


“Hermann, it’s protocol-”

 

“To hell with the  _ fucking _ protocol! You want to interrogate Newton for crimes he hasn’t committed?” Hermann shouts. Jake flinches.

 

“It's not an interrogation. We merely need to use the methods we understand to make sure that whatever was living inside of him isn't ready to pop out at any moment,” Jake explains. Hermann snorts.

 

“Yes so what? Torture? Somehow that's going to help?” 

 

“We're not torturing anybody!” Jake snaps. 

 

“What then? Berate him till he weeps? Give him empty death threats?” 

 

“You didn't have an issue with our methods before, Hermann.” Jake is baffled. “What changed?”

 

Hermann stammers. “That was different. He couldn't, he wasn't-” 

 

“Conscious?” Jake finishes. “Hermann, trust me when I tell you we will not harm him. I'm sure any of our extreme questioning methods won't be as earth shattering as having an alien hive mind stashed inside your noggin.”

 

Hermann isn't satisfied with this answer but he knows he can complain for hours and get nowhere. His keycard might even be revoked if he continued to dispute this, and that is the last thing he needs right now.

 

There is a deafening silence and Jake exhales, making eye contact with Hermann before saying, “Go humor the man. He's been pissing my men off all night talking about you.” 

 

Hermann looks like he's about to ask a question and Jake puts a hand up. “I attempted to make it a stern precaution on the first day, but since I know I can't stop you, you're free to touch him. Just keep him locked down for now, can we agree on that?”

 

Hermann nods, and stands eagerly. When he's dismissed, he zips out the door faster than he’d entered. 

 

* * *

 

When Hermann arrives, there are two guards on either side of Newton, hands behind their back and staring into the middle distance. He hears an excited yelp and sees Newt jolt up in his chair at the sight of him. “Hermann!” he cries happily.

 

Hermann smiles, and practically runs over to him, taking Newt’s hands in his and squeezes them reassuringly. Newton instantly squeezes back and he’s looking at him like he’s the only thing left in the universe. Hermann glances up at one of the guards. “Do you mind giving us some privacy?”

 

The guard’s jaw clenches and he replies, “We’re here for your protection.” Hermann can hear Newton’s small, humored, wheeze, and he rubs a thumb over his hand. 

 

“I didn’t need protection when the Precursors were present. Don’t you think it’s a little late for this?” Hermann questions. Newton stares up at them expectantly, and guessing from the annoyed grimace in the guard’s face, he had been talking his ears off all morning. 

 

“Yes, I suppose we can allow you privacy.” The guard gestures to the other one with a flick of his tranquilizer gun, and the two of them head out of the room. When they’re gone, Hermann turns back towards Newton who is staring at him lovingly, green eyes glistening.

 

“I was fearful of walking back in to find the Precursors,” Hermann whispers, voice cracking.

 

Newton shakes his head. “Nah, Herms. It’s just me.”

 

“I thought for ten years you hated me,” Hermann confesses. And, hell, he wasn’t expecting to get into this already, but it just sort of seems to slip out, and he’s gripping Newton’s hands tighter. “When I found out what had happened to you, I was relieved.”

 

Newton is silent, and Hermann chokes back a dry sob. “I’m so sorry, Newt.”

 

“Hermann,” Newton starts softly, voice drenched in concern, “you have nothing to be sorry for. Making you go through that for ten years was my fault. None of it was yours.”

 

“Don’t you dare say that it’s your fault,” Hermann snaps. “I won’t tolerate it. It wasn’t you.”   
  


“I drifted with the Kaiju-”

 

“Well, if you’ve forgotten, so did I!” Hermann nearly shouts. They’re bickering again, and Hermann doesn’t realize it until Newton’s solemn expression twists into one of amusement, a toothy grin widening. Hermann’s jaw snaps shut bashfully, before he can continue. He bites his lip. “I didn’t come in here to argue.”

 

“I don’t think either of us ever intend for an argument to start, but it’s not like we can help it,” Newton says with a chuckle. “Can you come up here?”

 

Hermann’s heart skips a beat, and he realizes he’s still on the floor. He hauls himself up and gently fits himself on Newton’s lap, trying not to put too much weight on his legs. Newton sees him attempting to shift in the right way and he laughs. “Dude you’re like five pounds, you’re not gonna hurt me.” 

 

Hermann relaxes and runs a hand through Newton’s hair. It feels slick and thin beneath his fingertips and Newton closes his eyes to enjoy the moment. “You have no idea how good that feels. I’ve been feeling nothing for like...” Newton thinks for a moment then his expression turns smug. “It’s been eighty four years,” he croaks in the best Rose Bukater impression he can muster.

 

“It’s only been ten,” Hermann says with a chuckle.

 

“Yeah yeah, Grandpa, Ten years is like eighty four years in Precursor years.”

“I don’t believe your logic is valid.”

 

“I don’t believe  _ you’re _ valid,” Newt retorts. Hermann smiles, and continues, stroking softly. They stay there for a few minutes, in silence, merely enjoying each other’s physical presence. Out of nowhere Newton hums and says, “I feel like Santa Clause.”

  
Hermann snorts. “I beg your pardon?”

 

Newton blinks at him and Hermann realizes it’s because he’s sitting in his lap like a child. Newt smirks.  _ Oh no. _ He’s familiar with this expression, he’d used it many times before committing menacing pranks in the lab. Newton starts haphazardly bouncing his legs to jostle Hermann around. “Ho ho ho, what do you want for Christmas?” Newton winks and despite himself, Hermann blushes and tries to force his legs to stop bouncing.

  
“Stop that!” he hisses, but there is no bite. 

 

“You’re cute,” Newton whispers and stops to lean in and give him a peck on his jaw. Hermann trails a hand down Newton’s face, feeling the stubble and the pliant soft flesh of his cheeks. The intimacy of the moment rattles him from head to toe. 

 

“I’d say the same to you,” Hermann says, shakily.

  
“When we drifted I saw a lot of things,” Newton blurts out suddenly. Hermann’s ears turn red, and Newton shows no outward signs of piping down. “Do you think about me like  _ that, _ a lot?”  

 

Hermann stammers. “I’m, well-” 

 

“ _ Dude _ ,” Newton whines, interrupting his answer. “You don’t know how much I’ve fantasized about us. I’m not talking about nasty stuff either, but sometimes in the lab I’d look at you up on that ladder and I’d think about taking you to the carnival, or a movie theater, and holding your hand in the dark. Like, even imagining kissing you was overwhelming for me. Sorry, I’m rambling, I just, I couldn’t say anything I’ve wanted to say to you for years. And you’re here, dude. I can’t believe you stuck with my ass for all those years despite me being a prick. And I was a real prick man, a bitch.”

 

“It wasn’t you,” Hermann kisses his forehead gently. “I think deep down I understood that, and I knew the real you would return in some capacity, one day.”

 

Newton closes kiss eyes and leans his forehead against Hermann’s. “Thank you.”

  
“For what?” Hermann asks, though he knew.

 

“For literally being the only person here that believes me.”

 

“The Precursors hate me. If this was an act, I would have figured it out by now.”

 

Newton nods and smirks. “Dude, that thing with the letters, it was so smart. The second you read the last one, I was screeching and yelling inside my head. They were so tired of my shit, I kept cheering you on.” 

 

Hermann’s lips twitch and he blushes, gawkily. 

 

“Who were we kidding with those letters, man? We were totally in love even back then.” Newton taps his fingers against the armrest. Hermann nearly jumps out of his skin at the mere mention of the L-word. He expected Newton to say it abruptly in the very beginning of their relationship, but this was, well, sooner than he expected.

 

And yet, he isn’t wrong. 

 

Newton hits his head against the back of the metal chair. “God  _ damn _ it, I wish I could move my arms. This isn’t even kinky at all.”

 

Hermann laughs, out loud. Newton’s brow twitches at this reaction. “Here you are laughing at my dumb antics. Maybe you’re the one who’s changed.”

 

“I’ve _ always _ found your antics amusing. I’m having trouble pretending not to find them as such, now, well…” Hermann trails off. “The situation has been changed drastically.”

 

Newton swallows, looking vulnerable for the first time this morning. “Hermann, can I ask you something?” 

 

“Anything,” Hermann replies. “Of course.” 

 

“When did I hurt you the most?”

 

“What?”

 

“When the Precursors had control, what did I do that hurt you the most?” Newton asks. Hermann opens his mouth, ready to tell him that nothing was his fault, to remind him yet again that it wasn’t him doing all those things, but Newton says. “Don’t. Please, just answer me.”

 

Hermann averts his eyes and continues to stroke his thumb over the back of Newton’s hand. “The--” he starts and stops to swallow the pain that is boiling to the surface. “The four year long silence.” 

 

Newton is silent but his eyes are glazing over as if he’s trying to remember those years as vividly as he can manage. Hermann takes a deep breath. “Month after month, I’d send you emails. I’d send texts. I sent you invites to events. I didn’t get an answer back. Months turned into years, and eventually I stopped messaging you, but I wanted to everyday. I never stopped wanting. And then you emailed me back at the end of the fourth year.”

 

Newton’s hand tightens in a fist, and Hermann continues because he can tell he wants him to.

 

“You didn’t tell me why you’d stayed silent. You didn’t give me an answer to anything I’d sent you. The letter said that you wanted me to meet Alice. You never mentioned who she was, a wife, a relative, your tattoo artist. I assumed the worst of course.” 

 

Newton sighs shakily. “You gotta let me say this next thing, dude. And you can’t argue with me, and you can’t tell me I’m wrong to say it. Just let me say it, and accept it.” Hermann looks down at him and Newton’s expression is resigned. “Please.”

 

Hermann nods. 

 

With a deep breath, and a hesitant pause, Newton whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Hermann.”

 

Hermann feels a sharp twinge in his chest, and it takes all his effort to smile and say, “I accept your apology, Newton.”

 

Before either of them can break down into the tears of their own self-pitying anguish, Hermann leans forward and kisses Newt who kisses back gently and hums against his lips. It is astonishing, still, that they are doing something like this. Life’s obstacles had twisted it’s hungry dagger deep inside both their guts, and yet they still came out on top, better than before, and ready to make each other their lives like there was no tomorrow.

 

They don’t kiss for long, and when Hermann pulls away, Newt kisses his cheek. Hermann slumps down against him and rests his head against Newt’s shoulder.

 

“When do you think they’ll let you go?” Hermann ponders. Newt is quiet for a while and then he sighs.

 

“We’ll have to wait and see.”

 

They sit here for the rest of the hour, catching up on things both of them have missed, and Hermann feels like the world is finally rotating again. His heart breaks when the guards walk back in and tell him his time is up. Hermann gathers all his strength to leave the warmth of Newton’s side and go with them to the exit. He looks back, pace slowing, and a guard pushes him to keep going.

 

“Hermann, it’s going to be okay!” Newton calls. His tone is strange, in a way that only Hermann would recognize. Hermann turns back one more time to see Newt’s gaze is locked on his own hand. Hermann looks down to see a keycard in his hand, tucked under his palm. He’s raising it only slightly, at just the right angle so the camera can’t see. 

 

Hermann’s jaw goes slack, and the guard pushes him again, harsher than the first time. The last thing he sees is Newton’s wink, and a twitch of his lips, sliding the card back into his sleeve. When the metal door slides shut behind them, Hermann’s head is spinning.

 

_ Holy fuck.  _

 

He hadn’t lost his keycard yesterday, Newton had stolen it. What is he going to do with it? What the hell is he planning? What does he expect Hermann to say--lie-- _ not _ say? 

 

Hermann stares at his feet, as he slowly starts to wander back to his quarters. For a brief moment, Hermann wonders if he’s been wrong all along, and it actually is the Precursors, making a fool out of him. He shakes that thought instantly. It is Newton, through and through.

 

_ Damn it Newton, you slippery bastard. _

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day is a haze. Hermann eats three meals, and how he achieves this, he does not know. Luckily, he manages to get some work done at his computer, and send out multiple mathematical projects, finished, to several universities and other waiting organizations.

 

Deadlines had all been set for these a while ago, but Hermann had been dealing with a lot recently, to say the least. He felt proud of himself or getting them done, but he knew deep down it was a distraction from thinking of Newton. Newton and his bloody all-access keycard. He must have slipped his hand into Hermann’s back pocket when he released him from his shackles yesterday.

 

Hermann huffs.  _ Trustworthy, my ass _ . Somehow, he can’t find it within himself to be angry, but time keeps flying by without him saying a word to Jake or another superior, and panic is growing deep in his gut. But, of course he wouldn’t rat Newton out. He never would.

 

He goes to sleep mid-day, and wakes up nearing midnight. His sleep schedule has suffered significantly the past week, and he despises it.  _ There used to be order in my life _ , he thinks wryly. 

 

* * *

 

Hermann decides to pull on some casual comfort-clothes and head out for a walk to get fresh air. He can’t go back to sleep because his head is buzzing and his leg is acting up. He needs some form of exercise, and maybe just some whirring wind to calm himself. 

 

When he strolls out of his quarters, he’s surprised to find some rangers roaming the halls. At this hour, he’d expected merely one or two people but he supposes the night shift caters to more soldiers than that. Getting lost in his own head, he accidentally bumps into a tall man walking in his direction.

 

“Oh good lord, I apologize,” he says quickly, looking up to see Nate smiling down at him.

 

“Hey there, Doctor Gottlieb!” he says, chipper. Hermann blinks. He almost never sees Nate on his own time, and when he does it’s usually when he’s around Jake. 

 

“Hello, ranger,” Hermann greets. “Night shift?”

 

Nate swallows and looks sheepish, “Oh, uh, yeah!” Hermann can tell he’s hiding something and he’s not going to ask about the specifics. Probably information he’d rather not hear. Nate narrows his eyes calculatingly. “You’re not going to see Newton are you?”

 

“What?” Hermann squawks too soon. “No, of course not!” He’s even telling the truth for once, but he’s still keeping the secret of what Newton current has in his possession, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to this subject in the slightest. He looks down at his watch. 

 

Midnight. 

 

“I can’t quite believe that,” Nate says with a genuinely warm expression.

 

“Well believe it,” Hermann replies curtly. “If you wish to escort me to the exit, then be my guest. I merely wished to get fresh air.”

 

“Maybe that’s a good idea-” Nate gets interrupted by a loud blaring alarm. Red lights start flashing, thrusting the dim blue hall into deep, garish, maroon. The incessant alarm synchronizes with Hermann’s pounding heart, frantically speeding up by the second. 

 

Hermann freezes, eyes betraying his shock. Nate sees his expression, damn him, and his eyes bulge, hand moving cautiously to his pocket. “Do you know about this, Doctor?” 

 

Hermann doesn’t respond, but can tell his face must look panic-stricken and knowingly mortified.  _ Newton, bloody hell, you could’ve waited _ . Hermann doesn’t think when he starts hobbling as fast as he can down the hall, not to escape Nate, but just to get there first and see for himself.

 

Empty. Door open. Newton’s cell is vacant, shackles unlocked, and his chair empty. The room suddenly feels warm and stuffy rather than cold and isolated. Hermann grapples at the wall to steady himself. The red lights shroud the room in one vivid color, and Hermann can barely think over the earsplitting sound of the alarm.  _ He’s gone _ .

 

Newton is gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this one out quickly! I was having so much fun writing it, it just came into fruition faster than I thought it would tbh. Please enjoy this one! It's the one I've been looking forward too, Newton's a sly guy ;D you guys are awesome! Support is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading! <3


	9. Day Eight

Hermann feels fingers prodding his shoulder, and a sharp voice muffled by the alarm speaking into his ear. 

 

Nate. 

 

He stumbles forward drunkenly and attempts to find his footing. Newton is gone.  _ Newton is gone _ . It’s all that is going through his mind, and he can’t process words or symbols or noises. 

 

He doesn’t process Nate leaving him alone in the room until he comes back five minutes later, with a gun in his hand. Hermann stares at the blunt end of it, and his lips part when he realizes what it is. “That isn’t a tranquilizer,” Hermann mutters. 

 

Nate shakes his head. “We don’t know what he’s capable of.”

 

“He isn’t them,” Hermann says, dumbfounded. “Don’t you  _ dare _ point that in his direction, he isn’t them!” He shoves Nate, as if somehow that’s going to stop him. He’s about to give in to hysterics, he’s self aware of that fact, and yet he still can’t stop himself. If Newton is found dead, after all their progress, after all the waiting, after all they’ve  _ shared _ \-- 

 

He’s trembling when he begs, “Please, don’t hurt him. Please.”

 

“I’m not going to kill him,” Nate says softly, hand returning to Hermann’s shoulder to steady him. “This is just a good threat. And if he does do something, I can cripple him.”

 

Hermann shudders in disgust, forced to imagine Newt in his own shoes, needing a cane for the rest of his days because of trigger-crazy rangers with guns. Nate can see his disapproval and he tightens his grip on his gun. “This is only if he’s doing something batshit crazy, Gottlieb. I believe you and Jake that Newton is back to a normal-ish sort of state, and I don't plan on hurting him. This is just--”

 

“Protocol,” Hermann finishes bitterly. “I understand now why Newton despises militarian fascism.” 

 

Nate doesn’t respond, but licks his lips in thought. The red alarm has become a background noise, and Hermann is already adjusting to it, yet wonders when it will cease, or _ if  _ it will. Nate clicks his fingers when a thought pops to his mind. “Hey listen, if you want to insure that Newton doesn’t get hurt, come with me. That way you can guarantee nothing happens.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Where do you think?” Nate tugs him back out into the hall and holds the gun to his chest as they make their way down the red corridor. “We’re going to find Geiszler.”

 

Hermann takes a deep breath, feeling that familiar twinge of nausea in his stomach again, but he follows. He must follow. If he doesn’t, he won’t forgive himself if something happens to Newton. 

 

* * *

 

Hermann runs as fast as his legs can take him, following Nate who is merely speed walking, but somehow drifting down the hall nimbly, significantly difficult to keep up with. “Do you wear your boyfriend out his much, Ranger?” Hermann questions, leaning against the wall for a moment to catch his breath. 

 

Nate stops dead in his tracks and swerves around with a bright glisten in his eyes. “Boyfriend?” 

 

Hermann tilts his head. “Sorry, do you prefer  _ partner? _ ” 

 

“No!” Nate yelps abruptly. “I mean, well,  _ boyfriend _ is nice. It has a nice ring to it.” He’s grinning up to his ears, and Hermann nearly scoffs at the display. Young love is intriguing. Nate seems absolutely smitten with Jake, and vice versa for that matter. 

 

Nate allows him another moment of relief and then says, “Come on. We have to hurry.”

 

Hermann grips his cane tightly, and clambers on behind him. “Are we going somewhere in particular? Or are we just wandering about like ditzy animals.” Nate doesn’t respond until they reach the elevator and he glances one more time down the hall they just searched, and gestures for Hermann to follow him inside.

 

Nate clicks the button for the fifth floor. “We’re going to the surveillance room. There is a chance we can find him through the security system, unless…” 

 

“Unless what?” Hermann demands.

 

“I doubt he would,” Nate reassures, refusing to explain himself. If Newton  _ what? _ Got to the surveillance room first? Cut the power from another room? He is one man, he couldn’t possibly have done that in the short amount of time he was given.

 

And yet, when they enter the surveillance room, every single screen is turned to static. There are men and women of all ages moving about the room like frenzied ants, typing vigorously at computers and getting rough with controls. Jake is leaning against the central control panel, and turns when he hears Nate and Hermann enter the room. 

 

“Nate!” He says, relieved. He sees Hermann and narrows his eyes. “What are you doing here, Gottlieb?” 

  
“He was on his way out to get some fresh air when this happened. He says he has nothing to do with it,” Nate explains. Hermann nods.

 

“I had no idea he was going to do this.”

 

Jake looks skeptical but he doesn’t question him. Chewing his lip, he returns his gaze towards the blank screens in front of him. “Damn it!” he shouts, and kicks the desk beside him; the person working at the console jumps. 

 

“What happened in here?” Hermann asks, though he’s sure he can guess. 

 

“Newton Geiszler happened,” Jake responds sharply. He pulls up some old footage on a working computer and gestures for Hermann to come over and see for himself. The last remaining minutes of footage are of Newton sneaking through the corridor on the floor his cell is located, and using a keycard to enter Hermann’s quarters. 

 

Hermann swallows, and he cautiously looks to Jake whose gaze remains locked on the screen. He speeds up the footage, and minutes later, the screen goes blank. “He must have used your computer to hack into the system.”

 

“He  _ does  _ know my password,” Hermann admits. “It’s been the same for twenty years.” 

 

“Did you know he had your keycard?” Jake asks, and he’s intimidating, staring at Hermann like he’ll unhinge his jaw and breathe fire if he says the wrong thing. 

 

Hermann can lie. He’s done it before.

 

“No, I didn’t. I think he must have taken it when we…” Hermann didn’t know if he should say embraced, or hugged, or  _ were in close physical proximity to _ one another. Each one was embarrassing to even imaging saying in this predicament, so he refuses to finish his statement. Jake sighs and moves away from the computer to go speak to another person in the room. Nate follows him like a puppy and Hermann rewinds the footage to watch it again.

 

In the video, Newton makes eye contact with the camera for a few seconds, and he smiles. Deviously. Hermann grips the sides of the computer with his hands, frustration blistering. “Damn it, Newton. You’re not doing yourself any favors,” he whispers. 

 

“Gottlieb,” Jake shouts, and he stands at attention instinctively. “I want Herc Hanson and Nate to take you down to your quarters and search for any clues as to where Geiszler went. I know Hanson is familiar with you, and I trust him to make sure you don’t hold any information back from us.”

 

Hermann had barely noticed Herc in the room when they bustled in, but now he’s walking over slowly, looking as if he has a painful crook in his back. Perhaps he’s too old for this job after all. Smiling at Hermann, he turns to Jake to say a few things to him, that Hermann can’t make out. His ears are still ringing from the alarm, but the alarm has stopped, only the red light in the corridors, remaining. 

 

Hermann glances one more time at the footage of Newton, and follows Herc and Nate to his quarters, moving casually to earn Newton more time. He had the advantage of harboring a limp, he could pretend to fall if he wanted, and it might give Newt the time he needs to escape, or hide, or do whatever it is he’s doing. 

 

Christ, why couldn’t he just follow orders?

 

* * *

 

The trip from the corridor, to the elevator, to the floor his quarters reside on is agonizing. Herc and Nate stand on either side of him as if he’s some prisoner, and they walk at a snail’s pace to make sure he’s walking directly beside them. 

 

“I’m not a child,” Hermann snaps when he pauses in the hall, and they follow suit. “I’m slow, and you could’ve been at my door by now if you hadn’t been coddling my side like some helicopter mothers.” 

 

“We have orders not to let you out of our sight until we’ve searched your room” Nate explains, as if that somehow excuses them from this treatment. Hermann huffs indignantly.

 

“You’re lucky I’m not Newton. If I were him, I’d sit down right in the middle of this hall and refuse to get back up until you promised not watch me like a hawk.” Hermann approaches his door and swipes his keycard, and it swooshes open. “But seeing as I’m not him, I’ll politely ask you to hurry, for I do not appreciate my possessions or my flat being scrutinized.”

 

Herc’s expression is redolent, and Nate rolls his eyes, a younger, more impatient, man. They move inside his room, guns at the ready, and Hermann strolls in behind them with his cane, eyes trailing down to the floor where a lump of unfamiliar clothes rest, only they aren’t all that unfamiliar. 

 

It’s Newton’s vest, his shirt, his pants, and his shoes. “Perhaps he was scared we’d have a tracker on his outfit,” Herc suggests, searching the drawers in Hermann’s bureau. 

 

“Yeah, well maybe we should have put a tracker in his skin,” Nate adds from the bathroom. Wincing, Hermann leans down to trail over the godawful pattern on the back of Newton’s vest, and he isn’t sure if he’s imagining its warmth, but he feels it beneath his fingertips. 

 

Hermann moves the vest and finds a small piece of paper, snatching it as quickly as his can, he thanks God that Nate and Herc weren’t looking in his direction. He discreetly shoves the note into his pocket, and feels a spike in his adrenaline as he stands and tells them there’s nothing on the floor except for Newt’s clothes. 

 

Once they are done searching, Nate raises his voice, shouting a handful of expletives, before leaving the room in an abrasive rush. Herc slaps Hermann on the shoulder on his way out. “You’re free to come with us,” he says, “though I’m not sure if that’d be good on your leg.”

 

“You’re right, sir. It wouldn’t be good,” Hermann replies. “I do believe I’ll stay there, though I do wish to be informed upon his retrieval.”

 

Herc nods, and bites his lip.  There is a familiarity between Hemann and Hanson that forces him to feel culpable for his own silence, whilst Newton is using him as an accomplice. “Please don’t hurt him,” Hermann implores him, as one last prayer he’s sending out into the universe. Herc’s jaw clenches and he nods slowly. “Do what you must, but be reasonable. He’s everything to me, I’m sure you understand.”

 

“I understand, Hermann.” Hercules gives him a knowing smile. “Don’t worry. He’ll be safe.”

 

The second he’s out the door, Hermann digs into his pocket and pulls out the note. He frantically opens it and reads Newton’s mundane handwriting.

 

_ At 1 pm, open the new program on your computer I labeled “Kaiju Groupie” and click “Activate” After that, don’t leave your room. At 5 pm, let me inside. -NG _

 

Hermann sets the paper down on his computer desk, and grabs his chair to steady himself. He considers it, and wonders if he should truly be party to this, whatever the hell Newton is planning. Of course he’s going to do as Newton says. Newton knows that, or he wouldn’t have trusted him with this.

 

_ Then why can’t you trust him? _ A voice sounds in his mind, reverberating into every thought cycling through his head.  _ Because what if I’m wrong? What if it is the Precursors? What if-- _

 

Well, what does he have to lose? His job, his reputation, his life, yes. But if there is even a small glimmer of hope, a chance, that he could be Newton’s saviour just this once, he thinks it’s damn well worth the risk. 

 

And so he waits. He eats. He takes a nap, and the clock above his bed keeps ticking. 

 

* * *

 

He gets lost in typing at his computer, crafting a few poems to pass the time, to ease his mind. Hermann doesn’t mention his love for literature often, and he finds himself at his desk for hours some days, constantly fine-tuning his words and his imagery, and then he reads over a poem he’s written and hates it. That’s the struggle of a true writer, and most of the time he doesn’t finish more than one poem a week, though lately, he’s found a lot of inspiration in his own gut-wrenching reality, that he is able to interweave into his craft. 

 

And while this takes up hours, he deletes, and he erases, he can’t seem to find words that satisfy him, and poetry isn’t working as an effective distraction. Not anymore. The clock nears one pm, and he closes out his word document, leisurely moving the mouse closer to a folder labeled “Kaiju Groupie” that he’s never seen before.

 

Until now.  

 

Hermann clicks it, and a program pops up, only labeled under numbers. He clicks that too, and there is a popup that has two options.

 

_ Cancel or Activate.  _

 

There are still two minutes left on the clock, and he can change his mind, but the thought of Newton being stranded somewhere in this building, expecting Hermann to follow through and then writhing in anguish at his friend--lover-- _ partner’s _ betrayal, is too much for him to bare. 

 

When the little numbers at the bottom of the screen switch to  _ 1:00 PM _ , he clicks  _ Activate _ , and another round of waiting begins. 

 

* * *

 

This time, the waiting period isn’t as long, but it  _ feels  _ longer. He’s not supposed to leave his room. He’s supposed to wait until five pm to let Newton into his room, and a part of him doesn’t even believe Newt is going to show up at all.

 

It’s about ten minutes until five, and he’s vehemently buzzing. Thoughts have been swimming around in his mind about what he’s going to do when Newton arrives. Is Newton going to be alone? Is he going to bring something with him?

 

Hermann glances down at his clothes which are still on the floor. Is he going to be wearing Hermann’s clothes?  _ Oh god, _ he’s going to have to be. He picks up Newt’s shirt, and feels improper pulling it up to his nose, but it smells so strongly of him, that it makes him blush. 

 

He never thought he’d be the clothes-sniffer type, but he does suppose he kept Newton’s old Kaiju figurines after the war, so perhaps it’s not all that big of a surprise. 

 

The minutes are flying by faster now, and he’s pacing by the door, ignoring the twinge in his leg. His cane is back in his closet, and he hasn’t needed it for hours; he isn’t going to waste time and dig it out now. 

 

He’s standing too close to the door when Newton knocks, loudly, and frantically. Hermann opens the door hurriedly and is almost rammed into by a huge cart. He moves to the side, falling backwards onto his bed as the cart is pushed the rest of the way in. There is smoke in the halls, and Hermann waits for the door to close and the smoke to dissipate before he takes in the sight before him.

 

Newton is dressed head to toe in Hermann’s attire, and every article of clothing is in manifest contrast to the others. He’s wearing a bowler hat and red sunglasses, as if that didn’t make him stick out amongst rangers in the PPDC more than it would if he was wearing nothing. He looks like a clown, and suddenly Hermann isn’t too frightened that the Precursors have come to murder him.

 

Hermann laughs. “Did you really think wearing all this was going to hide you?” 

 

Newton takes off the hat and flings it over to Hermann’s desk, along with his glasses which clatter to the floor. “God no, I just felt cool. Also I just set off multiple smoke bombs on multiple floors so no one could see me wandering around with this,” he gestures to the cart. “Pretty smart, huh?” Hermann smiles, eyelashes fluttering. It’s really him. 

 

Hermann realizes that this is the first time they’ve been with each other, outside Newton’s restraints, and alone together, nothing to hold them back. Newton seems to realize this too as he’s nearing the bed with an amiable smile. 

 

Newton doesn’t hold back, he kisses him firmly, hands resting on Hermann’s cheeks, and one knee on the ground. Hermann is still on the edge of the bed and he kisses back, only tearing himself away to kiss the soft skin above Newt’s brow. He feels like he can fall apart into small pieces with affection ready to pour over like an avalanche, and Newton smirks, adjusting their faces, and nipping at Hermann’s bottom lip playfully. Hermann yelps and smacks his hand blithely, which makes Newton chuckle.

 

Newt’s eyes pan over the expanse of the bed, and he affectionately rubs a hand down Hermann’s thigh, too fast to be seductive, but it still sends a tremor down Hermann’s spine. “Another day,” he whispers with a wink and a kiss on Hermann’s jaw. “For now, I need your smarts.”

 

He stands, and turns back to the cart he’s brought in. Hermann sits on the bed feeling light-headed, and sourly amused at himself for momentarily forgetting the cart even existed. When his senses start to come to, consternation begins to prod at his faculties.

 

“Newton, what is this?” he questions.

 

“Drift material,” he says, like it’s common knowledge, and begins digging through the contents of the cart. After the drift machine Hermann had haphazardly thrown together, he figured he’d never have to create another one. Now Newton was here throwing him small parts to stick together, and he is reluctantly obeying. 

 

“What for?”

 

Newton doesn’t make eye contact with him, but he stops what he’s doing, fingers drumming anxiously against the wires he’s holding. “I wasn’t completely honest.” 

 

Hermann’s heart drops, and he stumbles over his words. “About--about what?” 

 

Newton turns to him then, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “I can actually still feel the Precursors and they’ve been fighting for control ever since we first kissed.”

 

“ _ What?! _ ” Hermann roars.

 

“Keep your voice down!” Newton squeaks, wires flopping around in his flailing hands. Hermann is standing now, whatever it is he was assembling, discarded to the floor. 

 

“You didn’t think it pertinent to tell me? Instead of recreating some elaborate scheme that failed the last time we attempted it?” Hermann asks with a strong bite, and Newton tries to interrupt him but he continues. “Not just failed, Newton, failed  _ axiomatically _ .” 

 

“Herms, I know, trust me I know. I could have told you, and I didn’t, but I don’t trust this place. I don’t trust what they could have had on you, listening devices, I didn’t trust the cameras or the guards,” Newton explains.

 

“You could have trusted  _ me, _ ” Hermann replies weakly. Newton looks like he’s about to cry, desperate to fix this, as if the last thing he wanted was for Hermann to be this upset over his decision, so Hermann bites his tongue and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Newton. Maybe you’re right, but why in the world did you think this was a good idea?” he gestures to the machinery scattered across his rug. 

 

Newton swallows, regaining his composure. “Hermann, when we did this the last time, the Precursors were in full control. I’m the one in full control now, and I can feel their weakness. If you drift with me and we push them out together, I think it’ll be over.” 

 

“You think?” Hermann asks. 

 

“It’s the only thing left, that I can do. Otherwise, I don’t know what else there is,” Newton’s voice is cracking, and Hermann instantly plops down onto the floor to rest a hand against Newton’s forearm. This seems to calm him, and he takes a few steady breaths. “Hermann I need them to be gone. I need you, to--”

 

Hermann runs a hand through Newton’s hair soothingly. 

 

“I need you to trust me one more time, and then I’ll never ask you for another favor. And if it works, I’ll buy you all the oranges and earl grey tea money can buy.”

 

Hermann snorts. “I know for a fact you’re going to still be asking for favors after this is all over, don’t lie to me.” Newt chuckles, leaning back into the hand in his hair. “But, Newton. If I help you now, you have to promise me there will be no more secrets moving forward. We do this together or not at all, do you understand?”

 

Newton’s eyes bulge, and stares at him, mouth open. Hermann clears his throat. “Do you  _ understand? _ ”

 

Newton grabs Hermann by his front collar and drags him in for a brief, rough, kiss, leaving Hermann breathless. Newt grins and chirps, “Dude, you’re so hot when you’re assertive.”

 

Hermann sputters, “ _ Oh? _ ” he bashfully scratches at his neck. “So is that a yes?”

 

Newton nods his head. “Hell yeah.” 

 

* * *

 

Assembling all the parts together only takes them a few hours. They’d never done this together before. Hermann and Newt had gone to the supply basement on separate occasions, alone, in search for the right parts and they’d spent several hours alone in their rooms or in the lab creating a drifting device, but working together proved to be efficient, and Hermann doesn’t have time to start worrying about the drift because they’re finished all too soon. 

 

They place each other’s helmets on their heads and Newt boops Hermann’s nose with the pad of his finger, and Hermann suppresses a smile as best as he can manage. 

 

They hadn’t gotten much done in the way of talking, the act of constructing the machine absorbing almost all of their focus, but there would be time for that afterwards. Hermann is going into the drift with nothing but his sheer confidence in Newton and in himself. 

 

Once the helmets are secure, and Newton is holding the plug and it’s socket millimeters apart, he inches his hands forward, nudging at the space between them, and Hermann narrows his eyes, placing his own hands on Newton’s.

 

“Together,” he says, and Hermann finally understands.

 

“Together,” he echoes, and in unison, they connect the two chords.

 

_ Hermann feels himself being sucked into the vortex of blacks, blues, and whites. All different hues mingling, yet separate, swallowing him into the tingling atmosphere. He vaguely feels a presence beside him, and he understands it to be Newton.  _

 

_ It feels different than before, he feels like he can move, and scream, and thrash. He can hold Newton’s hand if he likes, though neither of them have a true configuration in the drift. He feels him still, his love, his devotion, his determination all wrapped into one screeching, liberal, ball of awesome, or perhaps that’s how Newt would describe himself,  _ **_is_ ** _ describing himself. It’s hard to tell where Hermann ends and Newton begins.  _

 

_ Hermann can sense them too, the Precursors, and amongst the midnight blue light and the memories flying by fast enough to be still, like it was merely wallpaper, he can see black. A cloud of smoke and yet somehow snarling and vicious and full of shape. It’s weak, this is what Newton meant, and he can see it now.  _

 

_ Hermann fathoms their fragility, and he understands now why Newton knew he could defeat them, with Hermann’s help of course. Alone, he can tell he wouldn’t stand a chance, but with Newton, and with them both in control and calling the shots, the Precursors have no legs to stand on. _

 

**_How do we do this?_ ** _ Hermann asks. _

 

**_We go forward._ **

 

**_What do you mean?_ **

 

**_We go forward,_ ** _ Newton repeats. _

 

_ And they do, and Newton doesn’t need to explain, and Hermann feels foolish for asking, for  _ **_thinking_ ** _. The pitch black mass before them screeches and Hermann can obscurely visualize it stretching and moaning, in pain, in terror. It’s not human, it’s barely even alien, it’s animalistic and predatory, although now it is the one being hunted.  _

 

_ There is no science to back it. There is no science to explain how when Hermann and Newt’s minds reach the Precursors, they reach it as one entity, and the hivemind emits a shrill noise as it fades for the last time, the small details of it desiccating into a clear concentration of memories, feeding into the harsh stream surrounding them, pummeling against their shared consciousness. There is no science behind the fact that within seconds, they had both defeated a race, a virus, that had plagued them for the past ten years. And somehow, when they’re finished, it vanishes, and they return to reality. _

 

Newton is already fumbling with the locks around Hermann’s helmet, before his own, throwing it to the side, and then scrambling to remove his. When they’re both off, and the machine is unplugged, Newt stands, feeling his chest, and then his shoulders, and his head, scratching harshly like he’s gone mad. Hermann is too dazed to say anything, and he lays there panting, staring up at Newton, praying that somehow, it had worked.

 

“They’re gone!” Newton cries out, jumping up and down like a rabbit who had just discovered carrots. “Holy  _ fuck, _ Hermann they’re gone, we did it! I fucking  _ love _ you we did it!” 

 

Hermann stands, attempting to find his footing, and he keens into Newton’s touch as he helps him stand steadily, he then pulls him into an embrace, and Hermann can’t remember a time when he was happier. 

 

For Hermann, this is the peak of his existence, and he sobs into Newton’s shoulder, the gravity of the past several years toppling over him, a deluge of joy and relief and ceaseless love being poured into Newton’s skin and his mind, an after effect of the drift.

 

Today, they won’t worry about the future, today they climb into bed and clutch each other close, because their minds are still loosely connected, and they both understand each other’s need for rest, and to wrap each other up in affection they haven’t had the chance to authentically share in years. Newton sleeps against Hermann’s back, and his thoughts drift into Hermann’s and he feels the soft content they both have for the feeling of body against body, and intertwines their fingers before drifting into a soundless slumber without apprehension.

 

Consequences of today will come tomorrow, and that is when they will worry about their misgivings, but for now they rest together, against each other, and Hermann feels as if for once in a decade, he can sleep for years. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say about this chapter, I just hope you guys enjoy! I'm really damn sick, and my head is so fuzzy, so I can't think of a proper note to put here, but I hope this is sufficient and a worthy chapter.


	10. Day Nine

Hermann awakes with a start, panicking at the anomalous limbs wrapped around him, and for a moment he fears one of his nightmares has come true. The nightmares where limbs and darkness would swallow him whole while he screams for Newton to save him. But, when he realizes who is against him, there is a sweet release of tension. Memories from the night before start to flood back to him, and he relaxes back into Newton, who is still sleeping soundly, face pressed into his neck. 

 

He wishes there was less clothing involved, because he’s sweating, and they hadn’t even taken off their shoes, or at least Newton hadn’t, and he can feel the rough sides of them hiking up his pant leg. Hermann squirms, and uses all his strength to swerve around in Newton’s grip. Newton hums and squeezes him tighter. 

 

Damn it. He tries to wriggle away entirely and when he escapes, Newton groans sleepily, and his hands flail out, grabbing aimlessly at pillows to tuck against his chest. Hermann snorts and crawls forward to give him a chaste kiss on the temple. 

 

Newton Geiszler is in his bed. Hermann is reddening at the thought, and decides to take a shower. At this point in the week, he must smell and look afright. He’s sure he can convince Newton to use his shower later in the day as well, if he’s gotten over his stubborn previous dissatisfaction with them. 

 

The more Kaiju intestines Newton is covered in, the better. In Newton’s mind, anyway. That’s how it used to be back at the lab. 

 

Hermann washes himself up, and turns the water on cold for about ten seconds before exiting the shower to wake himself up. He dries himself off, and fixes up his hair as best he can before tying the towel around his waist. When he walks back into his bedroom to search for clothes, he checks the bed to see Newton still fast asleep. 

 

Taking cautious steps, he kneels down besides Newton to kiss him on his cheek. Newton stirs, but remains unconscious, clutching the pillows tighter to his chest. 

 

Hermann dresses himself, and returns the towel to his bathroom before grabbing his keycard from his discarded pants, and exits the room.

 

Breakfast. Above all, they needed to eat before they discussed anything.

 

Hermann makes his way down to the mess hall, rangers in the hall barely sparing him a glance, and for once he feels like everything is going according to plan. Nobody knows Newton is stashed away in his room, and it’s not like they had reason to barge in and find him there. The base is still on lockdown, but the red lights and alarm are no longer running. The PPDC has the facade of being under control, and in reality they are. Hermann isn’t sure how he is going to explain to Jake how he’s been stashing Newton in his room the past several hours, or how they had to drift one more time to eliminate the Precursors, or how he’ll convince him the Precursors are even gone for good. 

 

Right now, Hermann will do what he’s starting to get too good at. Stall. 

 

He grabs more food than he usually does. Newton must be starved. The lunch lady glowers at Hermann like he has three heads as he scoops two of everything onto his tray, but there isn’t a limit to the amount of things he can grab, so he keeps going.

 

“You’re hungry today,” Amara says from behind him, taking one big, scathing, bite into an apple. “You’re gonna be able to fill all that down your gullet? You’re skinnier than my friend’s grandma.” 

 

Hermann isn’t certain if he should consider that statement an insult, but he does anyway. “My diet is none of your business, young lady.”

 

“You’re right, dude,” She says, maneuvering around the older man to grab what she came for. A box of Fruit Loops and a carton of milk. 

 

“Don’t you need a bowl?” He questions, mildly concerned. 

 

Amara smirks. “My diet is none of your business, old man.” He huffs in indignation and she adds, “I don’t need a bowl, I got a box!”

 

She waves the small box of fruit loops around before running back to her table, and he shudders. Hermann refuses to imagine Amara pouring milk into a cardboard box just because she was too lazy to grab a damn bowl. 

 

Hermann thanks the powers that be for Jake and Nate not to be lurking around the mess hall, and instead the hall was just filled with a bunch of kids and old, retired generals. He thinks about grabbing two straws for the juice, but he grabs just one, believing that it might be suspicious if anyone were to walk by. 

 

Maybe he could tell someone he’d entertained a guest the night before. 

 

As if anyone who knew him would believe that.

 

He grabs just one straw; he and Newton could share one, it didn’t matter. They’d kissed right? They could use each other’s utensils. Hermann is sure if he was another man, he wouldn’t be worrying so much over a bloody  _ straw _ . 

 

* * *

 

Hermann gets back to his room, and when he opens the door he hears rustling, and Newton jumps up from the bed feverishly, and he’s positive if he were a dog his tail would be wagging a mile a minute. Hermann puts a finger to his lips while he shuts his door and waits for it to lock.

 

Now they can speak. “I thought you might be hungry,” Hermann says, placing the tray of food own on his desk. He shakes the cramp out of his wrist. Newton bolts up from the bed and almost knocks Hermann over, kissing him, and nuzzling against his cheek. He brushed his teeth, tasting of fresh mint and a blank palette. Hermann lifts his hands up to grip at Newton’s elbows, and he pushes slightly. It’s too early to be getting into such things, and Hermann is too exhausted to keep his walls up, giving in, too easily, to the feel of the man he loves against him. 

 

Newton doesn’t seem to care how early it is, in fact, he seems to be using it to his advantage. Hermann is sluggish and pliant, and Newt picks him up, setting him on the edge of the desk. He is pressing forward, and kisses down Hermann’s throat, lifting his hands up to unbutton the top of Hermann’s button-up shirt. 

 

“N-Newton,” he says unsteadily. Newton hums in response, kissing down his clavicle and ghosting his lips over every exposed sector of skin given to him. “Are you sure you’re not rushing things?” 

 

“Do you want me to stop?” Newton asks, and he’s genuine. If this isn’t something Hermann wants, he’s willing to pull away now and apologize, and eat the breakfast that Hermann brought for them, but that’s not what Hermann wants. Hermann needs this, he’s yearned for it, he’s prayed for it, and now that it’s happening he’s nervous and sheepish. 

 

He’s not sure he deserves it. 

 

“No, don’t stop,” Hermann whispers back, voice cracking. Newton looks almost like he regrets his actions, but Hermann moves his hand forward, and trails over the incline of his back, pulling him forward, and moving his hand down his naval. Newton gasps, and it’s the most beautiful sound Hermann’s ever heard. “I just want to make this right. We’ve waited long enough.” 

 

Newton’s eyes widen, and he seems as if he’s about to fall apart. Hermann gathers enough courage to use his other hand and stroke a finger up Newt’s neck to tilt his face up just slightly. Hermann leans forward and leaves an open mouth kissed on Newton’s jaw, just below his lips, no longer feeling the cumbersome lethargy that kept his authority in these matters capsulated. 

 

Eye contact is instantaneous, and Hermann feels a spark between them in that moment that warms them both, and gives them a sign for what’s coming. Without another word, Newton grabs Hermann by the handles of his hipbones, and tugs him forward in a carnal urgency and Hermann draws in a sharp breath, allowing himself to be swept away.

 

* * *

 

It was earth-shattering in the way that taking your first steps or seeing through glasses for the first time is, and it rocks Hermann to his core. He’s never felt such a strong delectation in an experience, ecstasy and satiation threatening to tear him apart and put him back together again whilst he’s seeing stars. 

 

Hermann lay there after it all, chest heaving and clammy fingers intertwined with Newton’s own. He wonders covertly how they managed to even get onto the bed and undress themselves, prior to this.

 

Newton’s breathing is high pitched as he comes down and he plops over on his side, kissing Hermann’s sweaty hairline, and Hermann’s hand loosely finds his hair, and strokes softly. “Wow,” he manages to say, and Hermann isn’t sure how he can even speak after--

 

“If you were worried about the PPDC hearing us speak in here, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that for too much longer,” Newton chuckles into his skin, leaving small kisses on his shoulders.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermann grumbles.

 

Newton howls. “You were so loud!”

 

Hermann’s face reddens despite his spent composure. “Shut up. It’s too early to control myself.”

 

“We could have done this another time,” Newton says, sitting up on one elbow so they can look each other in the eye while they talk.

 

“That’s not what your libido was telling you ten minutes ago,” Hermann snaps back, attempting to turn on his side. Newton doesn’t allow it, squeezing him so close that he can’t do much in the way of turning his head or body. Newton is checking if Hermann is being serious, and of course he’s not. They’re teasing, and Newton smirks when he sees that familiar twinkle in Hermann’s eye. 

 

“Okay mister ‘we’ve waited long enough’,” Newton jabs. He hesitantly unwraps himself from Hermann’s soft frame, and wiggles around under the covers to yank his boxers back up his legs. Hermann yelps when he tosses his side of the covers up, and jumps off the bed aimlessly, causing it to bounce. He limps over to Hermann’s bureau and rests his hand against the top drawer handle. “Do you got any extra pajamas pants in here I could borrow, babe?”

 

Hermann winces. “ _ Babe? _ ” 

 

“Sugar cake? Pumpkin pie? Sweet cheeks?”

 

“Babe is fine. And yes, though I don’t know why you’d  _ want  _ to wear my clothes.” Hermann watches Newton dig haphazardly into his drawers, and he finally grabs a pair of pink checkered ones that Hermann barely uses because they’ve gotten a little too big for him. Newton shucks them on, and Hermann mourns the loss of seeing Newton’s beautiful, exposed legs.

 

“It’s better than putting that Precursor garbage back on,” Newt says, pointing to the black pile of clothes still discarded on the floor. Hermann swallows, hearing the word Precursors for the first time since their last drift. He tries not to dwell too much on it, and moves to put his undergarments back on, trying to ignore Newton’s gawking puppy dog eyes as he moves around the room looking for his pants and other articles of clothing. He gets fully dressed, but Newton remains shirtless, with just the checkered pajama bottoms tied off at the waist.

 

* * *

 

Newton shovels down breakfast like he hasn’t had a meal in forty years. There was no point in previously dwelling on the straw, because Newton chugs the juice straight from the bottle. Hermann had almost forgotten that about him. He isn’t a man of straws. 

 

Seeing as Hermann’s stomach is settled and he doesn’t feel even the slightest inclination of nausea, he indulges in the orange juice, taking small sips so the acidic elements wouldn’t stir up his delicate insides.

 

Newton moans when he shoves half of a pancake into his mouth. Hermann stares blankly, waiting for him to swallow and then Newton says, “Sorry dude, I gotta break it to you. This is better than the sex.”

 

Hermann rolls his eyes, “I hope you and your pancake have a wonderful life together.”

 

Newton speaks while chewing, muffling his words. “You jealous?”

 

“I’m not jealous of a concoction of flour, milk, and eggs, no.” 

 

“So are we like--” Newton says a little too loudly, and Hermann winces. It’s still too early. “We’re dating?”

 

“Yes, if that’s what you want,” Hermann responds, raising a mouthful of french toast to his lips. Newton frowns.

 

“Is that what  _ you _ want?” 

 

“Yes, Newton, of course it is. I’m sure I made that clear,” Hermann says. Newton is squirming around in his seat, stabbing at his food like a child. The man is in his forties and he still acts like a five year old. 

 

“You’re my boyfriend,” Newton states, like he’s practicing the word on his tongue.

 

“Oh god, do we have to use _ that  _ word?”

 

“What’s wrong with  _ that  _ word?!”

 

“I’ll tell you what,” Hermann says, leaning forward on his arms. “If we don’t end up in prison when we turn ourselves in, you can call me...that.” 

 

“You have to call me that too,” Newt responds, and Hermann gives him a dirty look. Never in a million year would he be caught dead using the B-word. Partner? Yes. Significant Other? Sure. Boyfriend or even Girlfriend is for young teens whose biggest issue is what fashion trend is the new  _ in _ . 

 

But, Newton’s looking at him like that. Puppy dog eyes, lip jutting out, and his hair is so perfectly oblique and darling that he can’t find it within his heart to say, or even  _ insinuate _ , no. 

 

“I hate you,” Hermann mumbles, poking at his sausage. Newton plucks a grape from Hermann’s plate, feeling erroneously triumphant. 

 

* * *

 

Hermann is typing at his computer while Newton is on the bed, playing on Hermann’s phone. Hermann is muttering to himself, and he often does this when he has to read a big article or letter, and he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until Newt says, “Shut up, I’m trying to level up.”

 

“You downloaded a game?” Hermann squawks. Newton merely hums a ‘yes’ and continues tapping vigorously on the phone screen.

 

“Are you almost done?” He exaggerates an exhausted yawn.

 

“Yes,” Hermann replies icily. “You could have helped me with these you know.”

 

“I don’t know too much about your field and I don’t know anything about your current projects, I was stuck in my brain for the last decade, remember? You’d probably laugh at me for my  _ irrelevant biomedical knowledge _ , or at least I think that’s how you used to put it.” Hermann ignores Newton’s comment, and sends his last email. 

 

“I do hope you’re not going to use the Precursors as an excuse to get out of everything, for the rest of our lives” Hermann jabs. Newton throws the phone down on the bed, tearing his eyes away from his game. 

  
“Are you insinuating we’ll be spending the rest of our lives together?”

 

Hermann splutters. “Are you insinuating we won’t?”

 

Newton beams knowingly, as if he’s keeping a secret. “Maybe one day soon you won’t have to worry about the ‘boyfriend’ label you hate so much.” He says it so genuinely, it snaps Hermann out of his banter-mode and he blushes, unable to process the words and their underlying meaning. 

 

A new email appears in his inbox, startling both of them with a shrill  _ bing. _

 

Newton gets up off the bed with a loud creak, and makes his way over to Hermann who opens the email reluctantly. It’s from Jake Pentecost. Newt trails his hands from Hermann’s shoulders to where they meet his neck, and he rubs fondly.

 

Hermann hadn’t even realized he had been sore until Newton starts kneading away the tension. 

 

He skims over the letter, and he can feel Newton’s eyes doing the same. When he’s finished, he closes the tab and stares blankly at the screen in front of him. They’d been avoiding this all day, stalling, and relishing in each other’s company while it lasts. He hears Newton sigh shakily from behind him. Jake wants to meet Hermann in his office. There is no more avoiding the elephant in the room. 

 

“I’ll turn myself in,” he says flatly.

 

Instantly Hermann tenses, and turns to face him. Newton’s expression is wary. “No,” he says, taking Newton’s hand in his. “We go together, remember?” 

 

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Newton says, and oh  _ god _ , he’s crying, tears dropping from his quivering eyes. Hermann’s never been good with tears or heavy emotions, but he finds he doesn’t need to dig around for social scripts in this moment to be able to stand and take Newton’s face in his hands. 

 

“You’re not asking me. I want to do this. I need to.”

 

Newton is attempting to stop the tears, furrowing his brow in concentration, and he’s averting his gaze, looking at the floor where their toes are touching. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s coming over me, I was okay a few seconds ago, just give me a minute--”

 

He tries to push Hermann off of him, but Hermann remains. He won’t allow Newton to apologize for crying and feel guilty about letting himself break. If anyone in the PPDC has the right to break down into tears, it is Newton Geiszler and all his heavy baggage. 

 

“Why are you doing this Hermann?” The question comes full out of left field, leaving Hermann speechless. Newton continues. “Why me? Why care so much about me? Everything I--they--did to you, through me? All those fights? Why the hell do you love me, Hermann? Why do you keep ruining your life because of  _ me? _ ”

 

He’s babbling, and Hermann drops his hands. They still linger at Newton’s waist, gripping the fabric softly. He takes a deep breath, finding the right words. He needs Newton to understand, in a way he now sees the drift couldn’t make clear.

 

Hermann moves a thumb over Newtons hand, “You’re asking me why humans breathe air.” The statement is so jarring, Newton’s heaving slows, and his eyes trail upwards, but he doesn’t make eye contact, not yet. Hermann continues, fighting for his voice not to crack and fall to pieces. “You’re asking why animals drink water, why the sun shines on trees, why there’s rain in the sky.” 

 

Newton is silent, and Hermann’s heart is pounding. “Do you question the natural occurrence of events in this universe? You’re an expert in biology, I’m sure you understand that some things can’t be changed, not truly, Newton. I couldn’t leave you if I wanted to.”

 

Hermann brings Newton’s hand up to his chest so he can feel his heartbeat. “I could beg to all things holy to rid me of you, if I wanted, but I would never be able to leave this place, where _ you  _ are. We are interwoven beyond fate and against all odds.” He takes Newt’s face in his hands gently, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. Newt’s eyes are red and moist and his lips are glossy. He’s staring back at Hermann like he’ll die if he doesn’t.

 

“You shouldn’t ask a man why he needs his reason to keep living.”

 

Newton’s breath hitches. He’s leaning in, and their lips touch. Hermann feels warmth trickle down his spine and rise in his cheeks. In this moment, he is going to succumb to Newton’s affections and die with devoted sentiments on his tongue, and he’s not sure he cares.

 

When they exhaust from kissing, and their breathing slows, Hermann’s hands are still touching Newton’s face, and he doesn’t loosen his grip when he says, “We go to Pentecost together.”

 

Newton nods, and Hermann feels a calm sense of completion. 

 

* * *

 

Newt’s hand is in Hermann’s, and they’re walking down the corridors of the PPDC. There are men and women, rangers, and generals, staring at them, watching them go down the hall like they’re specimens. Newt is tense, and his hands are sweaty, but Hermann grasps him tighter and his resolve strengthens as they make it all the way down to Pentecost’s office.

 

Hermann is surprised he hasn’t been stopped by other rangers yet. He’s surprised they haven’t yet been seen on the security cameras, and the alarms haven’t sounded. Surely they’ve fixed the surveillance center by now. When they reach Jake Pentecost’s door, Newton is visibly apprehensive and he stares at the door like it’s a black hole threatening to suck him in. 

 

“It’ll be okay.” Hermann swallows and strokes his hand up Newton’s arm to calm him. “Trust me.”

 

Without dropping his hand from Newton’s, he opens the office door, and walks in with his lover side by side. Jake glances up from his desk and it takes him a few moments to register who is with Hermann, and when he sees him, he drops his pen and scrambles for the gun in his pocket. He stands, pointing it directly at Newton.

 

“Please, he’s not them. Jake, I beg you listen,” Hermann says in a frenzy, and Jake looks back and forth between Newton and Hermann frantically.

 

“Gottlieb, what the _ fuck, _ ” Jake shouts. Hermann flinches, and it’s Newt’s turn to tighten his grip as a comfort, and Hermann can’t believe he’s the one grounding him, it should be the other way around, but Hermann has fought tooth and nail for so long, and his composure is starting to collapse around him.

 

“Sir, any inconvenience that may have passed your way in the last couple days was entirely my doing. Hermann had nothing to do with it, I was merely using his quarters as a place to hide and rest,” Newton says slowly, making sure Jake hears every syllable of it. 

 

“He’s wrong, I did have a part of it,” Hermann retorts. He can feel Newt’s hand squeeze his hand in a warning, but Hermann will be damned if he allows Newt to take the fall for everything. “I was the one that told him to stay in my quarters, and I was the one to shut off the power in the surveillance room.” 

 

“No,” Newt replies, agitated. “ _ I _ was the one to do that. Hermann was just the one to press the button to activate my program.”

 

“Don’t take all the credit, you--”

 

“I’m taking all the credit so you don’t have--!”

 

“Both of you shut up!” Jake bellows and the two of them do, only now realizing they are bickering again. It’s almost funny. Hermann might have just laughed if they weren’t in a life threatening situation. But, Jake does something he doesn’t expect. 

 

He chuckles. 

 

“Newton Geiszler, I’ve heard stories of your extreme antics and methods. I wasn’t all that surprised when you outsmarted me and the entire security team, though I’m a bit disappointed with them,” Jake says and takes a breath, lowering his gun. “I’m going to trust you because I trust Hermann’s better judgement. He’s been right, multiple times, whereas I’ve been deeply mistaken. Now tell me, Geiszler. The whole story, start to finish.”

 

Hermann isn’t precisely sure what Jake is asking for, but Newton does, and he starts. He starts speaking about ten years ago, when the Precursors first started taking hold, he explains how it felt, and he talks about how the Precursors have had this plan from the start. Hermann listens as his companion, his partner, his boyfriend, as whatever Newton needs him to be in this moment, would do.

 

Newton describes how he would peak out once in a while, how it felt like a breath of fresh air, and how he wanted nothing more than to tell everyone to help himself and the world, but the Precursors made that impossible. Hermann listens blankly, senses heightening when his name is mentioned. Newton sounds the most sure of himself when he’s describing his love for Hermann and how that was a key player in his recovery. Hermann smiles faintly, and fights the urge to lean against his shoulder as a support. 

 

Newton seems to talk forever, but it only lasts a few minutes in reality. Jake is listening attentively, and searching Newton’s face for any underlying motivations. He seems to find none when he hums in agreement after Newton explains he and Hermann’s second drift. 

 

“I have heard you were notorious for stealing garbage and creating a drift machine with it during the war. Suppose I could have expected this,” Jake says. “Geiszler, I--”

 

“Sir, if I may, I have a few options for you.” Newton’s voice is shaky now, and Jake nods, willing to listen to what he has to offer.

 

“Hermann drifted with me yesterday, and he is a firsthand witness of seeing the Precursors be crushed and destroyed from the deep recesses of my mind. And, I know for a fact your medical team took brain scans of me during my stay here, and compared them with brain scans from ten years ago and you noticed slight variations. I am willing to take another brain scan so you can compare that with the ones from 10 years ago. I’m positive they will show up similar. And you can use a Polygraph test on me. I’ve gotten nothing to hide, not anymore. You’ll be able to see if I’m lying. I will go through any method under the book to make sure you and the rest of the PPDC believes me when I say I am no longer infected. I just…” he trails off.

 

Hermann blinks, welling up at Newton’s grit. 

 

“I don’t want to be locked back up in that room again,” Newt finishes. He’s still shaking, but he’s standing his ground and looks like he wants to pull Hermann to him and hide in his safe embrace for eternity. 

 

“I’ll assure that won’t happen,” Jake responds. Newton’s eyes widen, followed by Hermann and Jake smiles. “I just wanted you to turn yourself in, mate. You were making it difficult for everyone the past couple days. You made it more complicated than it needed to be.”   
  


“I’m a disaster bi, it’s what I do,” Newt says smugly. Hermann roll’s his eyes, and hits his arm.

 

Jake looks like he’s suppressing a loud burst of laughter and he says. “Newton Geiszler, there will be a long road of recovery to come, but I’m going to try to make this as easy as possible for you. I’m entrusting your care to Hermann Gottlieb, officially, until we can get tests done and get a pardon from our higher ups.” 

 

Newton squeaks, “Seriously?”

 

“You’ve earned it,” Jake replies fondly, eyes flickering back and forth between him and Hermann, who is standing there in shock, not caring that his arm is being jostled around by Newton’s elated mood. 

 

When Hermann speaks it’s against his own will, it’s instinctive, and vulnerable. “Jake, why the change of heart?” 

 

“He’s easier to deal with than you,” Jake admits, deadpan. Newton snorts, keeling over. 

 

“Hell, that’s a first,” Newt says playfully. “Usually he’s the military’s lapdog.” 

 

“I am  _ not, _ ” Hermann snaps, curtly. 

 

“He’s lying.” 

 

* * *

 

Newton and Hermann bicker for their remaining moments in Pentecost’s office, and when they depart, they return to Hermann’s quarters. Tests and other tedious types of paperwork are scheduled for tomorrow, but for now they can eat together, shower together, watch television--Hermann feels like he hasn’t watched television since Newton was still himself, and it’s fun to be held and watch a shitty drama with his boyfriend; he still hated that word--and sleep, soundly, without worry of what will become of them. 

 

It feels too good to be true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm supposed to be studying for exams, but I finished this instead. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you like it. I just, wanted them to be in love and we've gotten there and I'm happy. I'm excited to finish up this series. Thanks for sticking with this for so long! <3


	11. Day Ten

“Are you sure about this?” Hermann asks softly. He’s holding Newton’s hand and their feet are planted in front of the interrogation room Newton had been held in, and though he had been here only days prior, it felt like months, and Hermann isn’t even sure if he even wants to see it again, but Newton does. 

 

When he’d asked Hermann if they could go see it together one more time before he went in for testing, Hermann had been shocked, but he had agreed. If this is something that will give Newton some sense of solace or closure, then he can do this for him.

 

It’s not too far outside of Hermann’s quarters, and Hermann’s free hand is gripping tightly around his keycard. He swipes it. The odious swoosh of the door opening makes Hermann’s skin crawl and he is forced to remember his first days in this cell. Newton bashing his own head against his glass cage had been phenomenally traumatizing to say the least.

 

Newton drags Hermann in, not because he cares if Hermann follows him, but because he’s too stubborn to let go of his hand. “Holy shit, this is creepy from a different angle.” 

 

“It wasn’t creepy when you were strapped to a chair?” Hermann asks dryly. 

 

“I don’t remember the details vividly,” Newton says simply, stroking a hand over the a knocked over chair in the middle of the room. Hermann watches, enthralled with Newton’s movements. Newton takes a deep breath and sighs. Hermann imagines he kneels by the chair for minutes on end, making their visit feel like an eternity, but Newton eventually stands and nods. “I’ve got what I came for.”

 

“And what’s that?” Hermann asks.

 

“To claim my victory.” Newton grins. “Even though they’re long gone, I feel like I’m rubbing it in those bastards faces that I won.” 

 

Hermann isn’t sure he can fully understand, but he supports him. Newton is right. He has triumphed over evil itself, and that isn’t something most people can say about themselves. Hermann checks his phone to see the clock, and he wraps one arm around Newton’s waist, smoothing over his shirt and rubbing up his back lovingly. “Your first appointment is in ten minutes, come on.” 

 

Newton follows ardently, and when they leave, the lights flicker off for the last time, and the metal door slides shut. Hermann has a robust desire to never see this cell again.

 

* * *

 

The Polygraph test is simple. Jake stands in with them to watch the proceedings, and Newton answers every question instantaneously, and confidently. The man in the white coat administering the test has big brows that furrow humorously at the screen whenever Newton answers a question. All the results come out as “Truth” obviously, and before the man can shut the machine off Newton yelps, “Wait!”   
  


Hermann perks up and Jake puts a hand up to stop the administrator. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Hermann ask me a stupid question,” Newton chirps. “Please it’ll be funny.”

  
Hermann rolls his eyes, but then a thought pops into his head. “In the year 2022, was it you who ate the rest of the cake Tendo made me for my birthday?” 

 

This cuts deep. Newton suddenly seems to regret his decision to ask Hermann to do this, and Jake scoffs in latent amusement. Newton says, “That’s not fair, hey--”

 

“Did you or did you not?”

 

“I didn’t.”

 

“He’s lying,” the administrator puts plainly. Newton curses and Hermann and Jake start laughing together. Hermann revels at the fact he feels at totally at peace beside Jake. The Precursors had been a beastly strain on their friendship. 

 

Newton is ripping off various wires attached to him, and he stands. “I think we’re done,” he says awkwardly. Jake slaps a hand across Newton’s back. 

 

“I mean, my father told me you were pathetic, but this is something else.” 

 

“That’s so fucking mean,” Newton grumbles. “I’m the opposite of pathetic.”

 

“Whatever you say, mate,” Jake says. 

 

* * *

 

The brain scan is a little more nerve racking for Hermann. Polygraph tests aren’t as viable as a full diagnostic scan of brain activity, and something about these types of tests had always rubbed him wrong. Hermann is supposed to stay out of the scanning room, but he’s tapping his foot nervously in the waiting sector, while Jake sits awkwardly besides him.

 

They haven’t spoken alone since before Newton had turned himself in, and the tension between them is becoming suffocating. 

 

“How are you and Nate-”

 

“So you two are together-”

 

They interrupt each other simultaneously and then lock eyes, falling into a pit of laughter, all tension that had been prominent moments ago, forgotten. Jake gestures politely for Hermann to go first, and he takes a few calming breaths.

 

“Yes, we are.”

 

“You said you’ve known him for what, twenty years now? Give or take?” 

 

Hermann nods. “Yes.”

 

“No offense doctor, but what took you so long? At least with the first ten.”  Jake asks, a welcoming expression gracing his features. Hermann returns it with a shaky smile, because he’s pondered it, he has. He’s wondered why they missed out on so much time, why neither of them just gave up and confessed, and amuses him to think about how they were both too stubborn to make the first move.

 

Of course neither of them was ever going to give in and confess first. It took a handful of drifts before finally, they both understood clearly and without a doubt. 

 

“Hell if I know,” Hermann responds hotly, though there is no _ real _ bitter edge to his tone. “I’m blaming it on Newton.” 

 

“Didn’t take you long to get back at each other’s throats,” Jake notes.  _ Or inside each other’s throats, _ Hermann thinks with a smirk, and then he shakes off the provocative thoughts that are popping up into his mind and focuses on the conversation at hand.

 

“He’s insufferable,” Hermann grumbles, and then pauses. “But, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

Jake nods. “I’m jealous.”

 

“You?” Hermann asks. “Whatever for?” Jake has Nate, right? They’ve known each other for years, and they seem unconditionally happy together. Jake seems to guess what he’s thinking.

 

“Nate is perfect, and I--”

 

Hermann waits while Jake shifts and swallows, taking one more deep breath.

 

“I do love him, but there’s something about you two. You’ve drifted multiple times, you’ve won the war together, you’ve somehow stuck by each other’s sides even when Geiszler was practically buried, and the determination you’ve shown in the past week or so, I’ve never seen anything like it.” Jake clears his throat, and Hermann sits back in his seat, astonished. He’d never expected Jake to show this much respect or admiration for him. The way he speaks is almost that of shame, and Hermann feels a pang of guilt. 

 

“Jake, you and Nate can have all of that. Your love can grow deeper, and you two can grow closer. I promise,” Hermann assures. When Jake doesn’t seem convinced, he continues. “Newton and I are old men, you’re still young. I can’t promise you if he’s the one or if everything will go smoothly but I will promise you that  _ that _ sort of love _ does _ exist, and anyone is capable of sharing it. I do.” 

 

“You’re not that old,” Jake says in a grateful tone.

 

Hermann shrugs. “Just wait til you get to my age, then we’ll talk.” Jake laughs and they return to silence, a gentle understanding lingering between them. They remain peacefully quiet for another ten minutes until Newton comes barging into the waiting room, with a nurse in white on his tail looking as if she’s about to drop her clipboard in an attempt to keep up with him. 

 

Newton immediately makes his way over to Hermann and plops down in the empty seat beside him, and Hermann intertwines their fingers. Jake is already up and whispering to the woman in front of them, and he’s flipping through papers and scans on the board.

 

“Did it go well?” Hermann questions softly, and Newton nods.   
  
“Yeah, yeah. These things are boring as all hell, but I’m ninety percent positive these brain scans will come out identical enough to the ones I’ve had done before,” he replies.

 

“ _ Only _ ninety percent positive? Where’s the other ten percent?” Hermann flares.

 

“I don’t know dude, but you can’t be certain about anything in the universe can you?” 

 

“You can when it involves numbers and statistics.”

 

“Oh, here we go about your precious numbers again.” Newton whirs his arms about in one dramatic gesture. “You gonna tell me again how there is no real answer to anything except for the answers you get from algorithms and equations?”

 

“ _ But that’s correct! _ ” Hermann hisses a little too loudly, and Jake and the woman look down at them dubiously, seeing Hermann and Newt inches apart from each other, growling and barking into each other’s faces like yappy dogs who think they’re tough. 

 

Hermann feels a twinge of embarrassment. It’s been too long since they’ve argued in public to this measure; he used to be desensitized to any judgemental looks or remarks strangers would throw at them in relation to their behaviour, but now it seems he’ll have to deal with his own chagrin for a little while longer before he can get used to the feeling again.

 

Newton doesn’t seem phased at all. He digs the hole deeper. “I know right? He talks so much, he’s so cruel.” When Newton points at him, Hermann scowls. “It’s okay, keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll shut him up.”

 

He leans over and kisses Hermann softly for a few beats, before pulling back and smiling as if he has no idea what kind of effect that has on Hermann.

 

Hermann blushes and crosses his arms, cursing Newton out in his head to feel better about himself, and Newton rubs a hand up Hermann’s forearm triumphantly, yet lovingly. Jake rolls his eyes and says to the women, “Thank you, this will be enough.” Jake grabs a few sheets off the clipboard and she bows her head slightly before exiting the waiting room to scurry into the main sector of the sick bay. 

 

“Good news, you two.” Jake holds up a scan from ten years ago, and one from today. They are practically identical save for the small changes done by age and time. “I’m willing to send the results from this, and the polygraph test to the board today, and assign you a time for a hearing if that’s what you want.”

 

“Yes,” Newton says decisively. “I want this over with as soon as possible.” 

 

Jake nods. “Don’t strain yourself, Geiszler. I’m sure you’re eager to get back into your work, but I think you should stay off your feet for a while.”

 

“He’s saying you don’t have permission to access our biological or medical resources or databases,” Hermann says flatly. Jake sighs.

 

“I understand, sort of,” Newton responds grumpily. Though I wanted to see some of the new findings you guys have discovered.”

 

“You can, with Dr. Gottlieb’s supervision. Just try not to touch anything or meddle with this work we’re doing here. It’s all very vital and classified. I mean it this time.” He glares pointedly at Hermann who swallows and glances down at his feet. 

 

Jake departs from them after a few more exchanges of words and requests, and Newton immediately turns to Hermann and grabs his hand. “This place smells like death, let’s get out of here.” 

 

They do, and Hermann wants to go back to his quarters to rest, but Newton guarantees him they’ll do that later. “I just really need to see your office, right now!” he’d said, and while they are on their way, Hermann scoffs, remembering he hasn’t been in his own office since before Newton was discovered to be possessed by the Precursors. 

 

Hermann swipes his keycard to let them in, and he leads Newton inside, feeling deja vu deep in his core, but this time Newton isn’t stalking around, indifferently glancing at everything scattered around the room, and telling him his theories are worthless. 

 

And Hermann isn’t desperately trying to earn his attention and respect and instead, watching Newton carefully, and feeling warm when he sees Newton’s expression lighten up.

 

“ _ You--?! _ ” He shouts. “You kept my Kaiju figurines?!” 

 

“I thought you might want them back one day, and they reminded me of you,” Hermann admits. Newton strokes a finger down a plastic Otachi, and bites his lip. He perseveres through the room, smiling widely, and reminiscing over the scattered papers and folders on all the desks and counters. 

 

“God, Hermann, you’re a mess.” 

 

“Learned from the best,” Hermann says absent-mindedly. Newton pauses when his hand skims over one folder in particular. Hermann can’t see what he’s looking at from this angle, but Newton flips through the pages inside and shakes his head fondly. 

 

“Kaiju blood rockets, Hermann, I didn’t even flinch when I saw these before. Do you know how cool these are? How smart? My wig should have been snatched,” he says.

 

“Wig?” Hermann echoes.

  
“I’m not going to explain yet another meme to you,” Newt says with a chuckle. Hermann purses his lips and Newton makes his way over to wrap his arms around Hermann’s middle. “How am I going to make up for ten years of lost time?”

 

Hermann swallows, still unused to the privilege of having Newton in his arms, or being  _ in  _ Newton’s arms. He pulls Newton’s face forward by his neck until their noses are touching and he whispers, “You can start with this.”

 

He kisses Newton deeply, well aware that he could possibly get addicted to this feeling. Newt’s hands are on his back, pulling him forward and then Hermann leans back to move his mouth to Newton’s ear and down his neck. He hears a satisfied squeak, and one of the hands on his back disappears, and reaches for the desk behind them. 

 

“Is this us?” he asks softly. Hermann cranes his neck to see the picture of them, ragged and worn on the day they won the war. He nods, and Newton presses further. “How long have you had this?” 

 

“Since the first week you left. I’ve kept it at my desk ever since, and  _ I know _ . It’s not that clever for someone who was attempting to get over you, but I suppose nobody’s perfect,” Hermann replies.

 

“Dude,” Newton mutters. “The Precursors were so terrified of you, and now I can see why.”

 

“Were they truly that frightened?” Hermann asks. He knows they were. He’s experienced that terror first hand, but he can’t imagine them being so utterly threatened by him that they’d lived in fear for a whole decade. 

 

“Let’s just say the entirety of Shao industries didn’t hold a candle to what you were capable of in their eyes,” Newton says. Hermann takes the photograph out of Newt’s hands and places it back on the desk. He tugs at Newt’s lapels which gets his partner’s full attention, and he stares bug-eyed up at Hermann, and impossibly, his eyes widen more when Hermann slides his cool fingers over the soft skin underneath Newton’s shirt. 

 

“I believe I told you I wanted to go back to my room and rest,” Hermann says in a low voice, and he marvels at the change in atmosphere when Newt nods his head, burying his stubborn side for the time being. Hermann is amused that after twenty years, he’s finally found a way to convince Newton to do what he wants. 

 

He shivers when Newton passionately nuzzles into him and insinuates a leg between his own. “Not here. Come on, let’s go to my quarters.” 

 

* * *

 

Hermann wakes with a start at the sound of a loud crash. The last thing he remembers is dozing off after he and Newton had been basking in the afterglow of intercourse.  _ Sex? Coitius? _ Hermann isn't sure what he should even call it in his head; either way, he’s blushing again. 

 

He blinks the drowsiness out of his eyes when the noise registers in his mind. He pulls on his pants after getting up from the bed, making his way to the bathroom where the noise originated. Hermann knocks and then opens the door. 

 

He gasps, and panics. 

 

The mirror over the sink is shattered and Newton’s fist is bloody. He’s holding a particularly large shard of glass in his hands, and the distress coating his features is haunting. When he realizes Hermann is there, he whips around, shard still in hand, and Hermann backs up on instinct, a sharp feeling of guilt coiling in his belly when he realizes he must look terrified. 

 

_ How else is he supposed to react? _

 

Newton sees the frightened look on Hermann’s face, and his eyes trail down to the sharp object in his hand. His eyes widen, and he drops it. It clatters to the tile floor. “Christ, Hermann, I’m not--” he makes a small frenzied move towards Hermann who backs up on instinct, again. Before Hermann can apologize or move towards him to make up for it, Newton is backing further into the bathroom.

 

“You’re scared of me,” he whispers. Hermann shakes his head, and opens his mouth to tell him he’s wrong, but Newton continues, disbelief and regret flooding into his tone. “You thought I was going to hurt you, you’re fucking terrified of me Hermann! How am I supposed to live with that? Knowing that if I make one wrong move I’m going to scare you away.”

 

“You’re wrong, Newt,” Hermann says urgently, reaching out for him, but Newton stays at a safe distance. “I’m sorry, I was just, confused. I didn’t know what you were doing. The-There’s blood,” he stammers, pointing to the residue on the broken mirror and covering Newton’s knuckles.

 

“Did you think the Precursors took over again, did you think they were going to kill you?” Newton says frantically. Hermann can tell Newt isn’t processing his words. 

 

“Newton, please listen to me, I’m not scared of you, I just--”

 

“Don’t lie to me, I can see it in your eyes! Even now, you’re ready to step back the second I move towards you,” Newton cries. Hermann is moving closer to him now, but Newt stiffens and points an accusatory finger at him. “You’re shaking! You’re feeling forced to do this, you think I’m a monster, you--”

 

“ _ Listen to me, damn you, _ ” Hermann shouts, and it’s been some time since Newton’s heard him get this loud and genuinely enraged. Hermann continues when Newton is staring back at him in silence, hands at his sides. He doesn’t mean to come across so furious, but something about Newton’s accusations flipped a switch inside of him, and he suddenly feels the intense need to get everything out in the open right now. “Don’t dismiss me like I mean nothing. You can’t expect me to act normally in this situation. This isn’t a  _ normal _ situation, and it’s never going to be, and I can’t just forget what happened for the past ten years. That was an extensive chunk of my life! You were possessed, Newton, for ten  _ bloody _ years, have you already forgotten that? You can’t make it my fault that there is still some lingering reluctance in me. You lied to me after the first drift remember? How am I supposed to know they’re truly gone?”

 

“That’s not--”

 

“Fair?” Hermann says quickly. “What’s not fair if you treating me like some robot, expecting me to be over the pain I’ve suffered for all these  _ goddamn _ years!” 

 

“I’m not asking you to be over the pain,” Newton yells desperately. “God, Hermann, I’m sorry. I just can’t, you’ve been too generous with me, and I’m being an idiot, asshole, _ jackass _ . I just can’t stand the way you look at me. You look at me now like I’m going to rip off a mask and reveal a monster underneath, but it’s just me, god, Hermann it’s just me now, and I feel so empty and lost, and being without them in my head makes me feel so fucking exposed, and paranoid. I didn’t mean to -- I’m sorry, oh god.” He has his hands over his face, and he’s pressing his fingers hard into his temples and grumbling whispers of self-deprecation into his palms, feeling utterly debauched in front of Hermann.

 

Hermann feels a pang of guilt, and realizes his eyes are burning. Tears won’t come, and he’s stuck on the brink of boiling over into hyperventilation. 

 

“Newton, we need to communicate if we don’t want this to fall to pieces,” Hermann says and takes a conscious step forward. He’s nearly in arms reach of Newt. “I love you. Please tell me what happened.” 

 

Newt’s hands fall back down to his sides, and he looks like he’s aching to hold Hermann and whisper apologies into his skin for hours, and Hermann wishes he could do the same thing, but he thinks it best if Newton gathers his thoughts and they both calm down first.

 

“I woke up from my nap, and I could see,”  Newton says, sounding pained. Herman narrows his eyes, not quite understanding what he means. 

 

“What?”

 

“I woke up and realized that I could see, that my eyes were fixed, and I could see without my glasses, and it hit me. All of it. Everything they took from me, crashed into me like a fucking trainwreck, Hermann, and I looked down and saw you and knew that we could’ve been here together for the past ten years, together in the same bed. I could have been holding you in my arms for years! I could have never gotten lasik. I loved my glasses, I liked how they felt, how they looked, and goddamnit Hermann, they stole all this from me, and I’m pushing fifty! Fucking  _ fifty _ . I saw my face in the mirror, and god, I didn’t even recognize myself.” Newton’s voice cracks into a softer, yet higher tone. “They won, Herms. I tried to pretend they didn’t, I tried to convince myself they hadn’t, but they won. They broke me, and I’m not  _ me _ anymore.” He jabs a finger pointedly into his own chest, and scratches at his bare arms, like he’s trying to shed himself of his skin. “These tattoos mean nothing to me now, and they’re still somehow a part of me. I--I don’t think I can ever be the man you fell in love with, and I have no clue how to fix me, or fix this hole inside me that I was trying to pretend I didn’t feel, but do feel it. I really do. I feel it like a motherfucker. I want my shitty sight back. I want my mojo back, I want my dumb, stupid, obsessions back. The only thing that is clear for me is my love for you. It’s never stopped. That’s why I need you, and I’m so, so scared of losing you.”

 

Hermann is biting his lip, absorbing every word carefully. He takes a breath and then says, “I don’t know how to fix you either, Newton.”

 

Newt looks up at him, tired eyes scanning his face and unable to read his expression.

 

“There is one thing I must correct you on,” Hermann says quietly. “You  _ are _ still the same man I fell in love with all those years ago. You’re not a part of him, you’re not an echo of him or a shadow, you are him. You’ve just acquired some heavy damage along the way. But, I could care less about that. What I care about is you allowing me to be there with you during your recovery. I can’t give you a solution or an answer about your pain, because mine still remains as strong as ever. All I know is that I need you with me if I have even a hope of feeling better. I’m not going to leave you.”

 

Newton stares down at his feet and sways back and forth. “I’m not going to leave you either,” he whispers.

 

“Newton,” Hermann closes the gap between them and runs his fingers through Newt’s soft hair. “I’m so sorry. I despise fighting with you if it’s not all in good fun. Let’s trust each other, please? We’re dealing with enough as it is.”

 

Newton takes Hermann’s hand and kisses the backside of it, his lips lingering on his ivory skin.

 

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry I broke your mirror,” he says. Hermann huffs.

  
“It’s the PPDC’s, not mine.” 

 

Newton pulls him into a firm embrace, a firm death grip on Hermann’s shoulders. “I love you more than anything, Herm,” he mumbles into his neck. “Thank you for putting up with me.” 

 

They’ll work on his self-deprecation another day, for now Hermann awkwardly pats his back until he opts to just grip tightly onto his shoulder blades and pray Newton never lets go,

 

“Newt, look at me.” He does, green eyes wobbling as he stares back into Hermann’s waiting brown. “Don’t expect this to be fixed overnight,” he says. “This is going to take months, maybe years, of recuperation. You are such a strong man, Newton Geiszler.” He strokes a finger down his lover’s cheek. “You won the war. You can beat this.”

 

Newton smiles back earnestly before replying with warm a conviction. “ _ We  _ won the war.”

 

* * *

 

“You wished to see me, Jake.” Hermann is standing in front of Pentecost’s desk, hands folded behind his back. It’s late, and the day is nearing an end. Jake gestures for him to sit down, and he does. Hermann tries to make sure his face isn’t betraying his exhaustion. 

 

“I got a response back from the board almost immediately after sending in our substantial evidence in Geiszler’s favor. There is a pardon being constructed as we speak for all charges on Geiszler to be dropped, and a hearing has been scheduled for soon,” Jake says. 

 

Hermann’s jaw drops and he swallows a handful of unbecoming noises he’s sure he would’ve made. “I can’t believe it.”

 

“These thick heads eat scientific evidence up like it’s candy. They were very convinced with the thorough nature of our tests.” Jake leans forward in his seat. “How is Geiszler coping?”

 

Hermann bites his cheeks, to keep the smile of relief from taking him over. “He’s...he’s coping.” 

 

Jake nods, understanding that there’s something more personal to it that Hermann is worried about sharing. They sit there in silence for a few moments, with no sound other than the tapping of the pen Jake has between his fingers, against the wood of the desk.

 

“How are you and Nate?” Hermann asks. It’s be a while since they’ve discussed this, even though they skimmed the surface of it in the waiting room hours ago, and now that it seems the worst parts of his time in this base are over, he has all the time in the world to be an attentive friend, or at least colleague. 

 

“Very good,” Jake responds with a smirk. “With everything calmed down, we’ve been able to talk about us, have time to ourselves you know?”

 

“Yeah, I know. It feels wonderful,” Hermann says.

 

“I’m happy for you, you know.” Jake waits until Hermann looks up to continue. “I was afraid you’d be going in there for months and make no progress.”

 

“Thanks for the optimism,” Hermann jabs. 

 

“Hey, it’s not a  _ you _ thing, mate, I just--”

 

“Jake,” Hermann says with a laugh. “I’m just joking.”

 

Jake laughs with him and his smile wavers into an expression of concern. “My bigger question is, how are _ you _ coping?” 

 

The question catches him off guard and he sits there for a moment, feeling an odd weight in his stomach and truly wondering if he even  _ is  _ coping. Yes, he is. And it’s because Newton is by his side again. “Newton and I are all we need right now, and I haven’t been this content in years.”

 

With an affectionate slap on the back, and a few kind exchanges of words, Jake dismisses him and Hermann feels like he’s been freed of something. He and Newton have the rest of their lives to spend together, no precursors, no war, just he and Newton, against the world, and irreversibly in love.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure I'm happy with this chapter, but there are elements I'm satisfied with. I'm going to be ending this story in an epilogue, which will be fairly long and take place three years from this chapter. Thanks for sticking with me for this journey!


	12. Epilogue

**Three Years Later**

 

* * *

 

 

Hermann is in the lobby of a very extravagant resort, and letting Newton to do all the talking for them at the main desk. The ocean is moving languidly in the distance just outside the lobby doors, waves lapping over each other, and Hermann closes his eyes for a moment to take in the scent of pineapple and coconut. The lobby is spruced up with wonderful comforts of all sorts, and Hermann is now glad Newton convinced him to allow Newt do all the planning. 

 

“You’re too anal about everything, and you need to relax,” Newton had said after kissing each and every knuckle of Hermann’s hands, pure Gomez Addams style. This was a week before their wedding, and now after an arguably over expensive plane ride in first class, they are on their honeymoon in the Bahamas. At the airport when Hermann had found out this was to be their destination he complained about getting a sunburn, and how Newton didn’t give him any time to prepare with sun tan lotion or a beach umbrella for shade. 

 

“Christ, Herms, you can buy them when we get there,” Newt had grumbled, but Hermann prefers buying things in the comfort of his own country. Hermann isn’t a traveler, he travels, but he doesn’t enjoy it, not as much as Newton. But he finds he can indulge in the serenity of this place, even if it is out of his comfort zone. 

 

He wouldn’t do it if it weren’t for Newt. 

 

Hermann swallows, and turns around to see the employee at the desk handing Newton two keycards for their room. Hermanns sidles up to his husband and wraps an arm around his waist along with his cane, using the other to knead endearingly at his husband’s stomach. Newt smirks, bumping his hips into Hermann’s lightly to acknowledge him.

 

“Enjoy your stay you two,” the desk clerk says with a knowing smile, raising a hand to the next guest that had just arrived behind them. Newt takes Hermann’s hand and drags him to the elevators. On their way up, Hermann can tell he’s practically bubbling over with excitement. Hermann rests his cane against the wall of the elevator. 

 

“We get an entire weekend just for each other, Hermann. Holy fuck!” Hermann hasn’t seen Newt this excited in a while. The past three years have been a slow recovery, but the night Newton got down on one knee in his apartment and proposed to Hermann, there had been an expression on Newt’s face when he’d said yes that he’s very close to mimicking now. Hermann tugs him over so he can pull him up into a kiss. 

 

Three years and it still felt phenomenal, as if it were their first. Hermann is eager to get back to their room so he can have Newt all to himself, but the elevator stops at a floor other than the one they are staying on. Hermann narrows his eyes, fingers still curled into the fabric of Newt’s (hideous) floral button-up. “We aren’t going to the room?”

 

Newt shakes his head, eyes flickering multiple places at once which signals that he’s currently in an easily distracted state of mind. This usually happens during situations when he becomes high-strung “I have a surprise for you.”

 

“Our bags--”

 

“Hermann, please relax. The bellhop is going to take care of all that. This is a resort. We officially don’t have to do anything for ourselves for the rest of the weekend,” Newt says and offers an inviting hand when the elevator doors swoosh open. “Come on, babe.”

 

Hermann rolls his eyes for comedic effect, and takes his husband’s hand, being lead out onto a cobblestone pathway surrounded by native flowers and plants. Suddenly, he’s glad he remembered his allergy medicine. Otherwise the plants would be hell on his sinuses. Newton mutters something factual about the flowers he’s gesturing to, but Hermann gets too distracted by the view in front of them to listen. “Newton, what in the world--”

 

“There was a reason I didn’t want you looking at the resort website,” Newt says in a hurry, tugging him forward quickly, but remaining attentive to his leg. “I wanted everything to be a surprise.”

 

“A dolphin cove,” Hermann notes flatly. That’s what the sign says, at least. It is definitely a surprise, and Hermann can’t exactly wrap his mind around the concept. He’s never seen a dolphin in real life, nor has he ever had the desire of doing so, but the thought is starting to show appeal, especially when he sees the bright look on Newt’s face.

 

“Slippery boys,” Newt says with a smirk.

 

“I’m sure you could have worded that better,” Hermann mutters, and tightens the grip on his cane. “So, what is it?”

 

“This place has multiple premium packages. Three to be exact, but I chose the first one, not because it’s cheapest but because they other two involve getting in the water with the dolphin, and I wouldn’t want something to go wrong and for your leg to get fucked up for the rest of the weekend.” Hermann smiles affectionately and Newt continues, his free hand making extravagant motions. “I chose the first package, which are attached to our room keys. So basically we get to feed the dolphins and pet them as they come up to the side of their pool.”

 

“You really planned this out,” Hermann whispers and he doesn’t mean to come off as somber, but Newt’s face drops into a confused concern. 

 

“Do you not want to?” When Hermann is speechless Newt adds, “Did a dolphin eat a distant relative in your family or something--”

 

Hermann puts a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing, and to slightly hide his eyes from Newt. He’s tearing up and doesn’t want him to see. The wedding, the marriage, the fact that they’re on their honeymoon begins to catch up to him. Despite his efforts to keep him from seeing his tears, Newt does, unfortunately. When Newt wants to focus, he does, thoroughly.

 

“We can go do something else,” Newt says in a low voice. Hermann’s eyes lock with his and he sighs, settling a hand on Newton’s face. After all those years of neglect and pain, Newt was here in front of him with a gold band around his wedding finger, and Hermann mirroring it with his own. And they had the world under their feet. 

 

“You can take me wherever you desire,” Hermann says. “You don’t know how happy I am.” 

 

Newt blinks and his lips upturn and he’s pressing against him, pressing a stubbly face to Hermann’s as they hug. “Let’s go high five a dolphin!”

 

“Dolphin’s don’t have hands with five fingers,” Hermann replies and feels satisfied seeing Newt’s head fall back, irritation clawing at his bubbly vibe. 

 

“Well don’t go telling them that, they might splash you,” he eventually responds. Newt pulls out their room keys and hand them to the man at the desk, under the sign that says  _ Dolphin Cove _ . Hermann is certain he can hear their squeaky aquatic laughter, echoing throughout the loosely covered area. He sees kids walking around holding their parents’ hands, soaked from head to toe, and he envies them. It’s burning hot out, so he wouldn’t complain if a Dolphin decides to be rude and splash him.

 

Newton leads him over to the back area where they are greeted with a woman in all teal, the resort symbol below her left shoulder. Hermann hadn’t noticed the first time Newt had introduced him as his husband to the desk clerk, but he notices now when Newt throws an arm around Hermann’s shoulder and says, “It’s me and my husband’s honeymoon” proudly to the woman who probably could care less if they were high class jaeger pilots here on a top secret government mission. 

 

“Oh how lovely!” She says in an all too-chipper voice. “If you would please hold out one or both of your hands, I will be distributing the dolphin food to you both.” With a small bounce in her step, she moves to a metal canister, opening the lid, and scooping a handful of lifeless fish into a cardboard container. When she’s finished, she brings them over and Newt grabs his eagerly, while Hermann takes the container in his free hand and grimaces down at the dead fish. 

 

They smell revolting and salty. It doesn’t help when Newt exaggerates a whiff and says “Mmm, our lunch.” Hermann holds back a gag, and pushes forward with Newton until they approach an area that isn’t covered by giant tropical overhang. It’s a bright blue pool surrounded by rocks and, most likely, fake palm trees. Hermann briefly observes the two other family’s at the far end of the same pool, one kid throwing a dead fish into the water aimlessly, and the other stroking the chin of a dolphin. 

 

Hermann gulps, feeling ashamed over his own timidness. He shouldn’t be worried, this is meant to be fun, and by the looks of it Newton is  _ over _ enjoying himself. The girl helping them is explaining the basics before she leaves to return to her own station. “Want to feed them together?” Newt asks, pouring the fish from his container into Hermann’s, not giving him much of a choice. But, he wouldn’t have said ‘no’ either way. After setting down his cane horizontally on the rim of the pool, he nods with a smile, and Newt moves to his left side, taking a fish and waiting for Hermann to drape his own hand around Newt’s. They wait by the edge of the pool, dangling the bait for a few moments before Hermann sees the rush of a fin, and the ripple of waves approaching them. Newt giggles when a small bluish gray head pops out from under the water, cooing and chattering in it’s own aquatic language. 

 

It’s quite surreal. Hermann’s trepidation vanishes as the dolphin flaps around eagerly. Newt moves their hands in tandem to toss the fish into its mouth. It moves closer to them and they take another fish to throw it. 

 

“Who’s a hungry boy?” Newt cooes back as the dolphin makes exuberant noises, and spins around. “Look Hermann, he’s doing tricks for us!” 

  
“How do you know you know it isn’t a female?” Hermann jeers, with a smile still plastered on his face. Newton gives him a look, and then turns back to the dolphin with animal-loving eyes.

 

“Who’s a good dolphin who doesn’t care about the gender binary?” Newt asks it, with a high oochy-coochy-coo voice. The dolphin starts making clicking noises, and Hermann snorts at Newt’s comment, and they feed him one more fish before Newt nudges Hermann with his elbow. “Pet it!”

 

“Me?” 

 

“Yes, you first.” Hermann swallows and bends his good knee to lean in closer before reaching out his hands to stroke the side of its face. It feels slick and it's making an almost purring sound as Hermann does it. Hermann smiles warmly and feeds it a fish on his own. It swallows it excitedly. “You’re lovely,” Hermann tells it.

 

Newt leans down too and scratches its head like a dog. Hermann raises a brow at his bluntness, and continues to rub softly at its chin. “They like us!” Newt cheers. The dolphin disappears under the water for a moment before swimming in a circle and coming back around.

 

Suddenly, it hops up very close to the rim and knocks Hermann’s cane into the water. Hermann topples to the edge trying to catch it, but the dolphin is swimming away at a rapid speed with the cane between its mouth. Newt is roaring with laughter, while a worker notices and calls for a handful of dolphin trainers to retrieve it. 

 

“Now you can say you’ve been outwitted by a dolphin,” Newt says playfully. Hermann is biting his lip to keep from laughing and he shakes his head.

 

“You’re going to be the only one telling this story,” Hermann notes, and Newt shrugs. They are confronted by the woman who gave them the fish five minutes later, with a wet cane in hand. She says if Hermann requires any physical assistance during his stay, it would be free of charge. 

 

Hermann grips his cane, leaning his weight on it once more before shaking his head and glancing fondly up at Newt. “No thank you, my husband is the only support I need.” 

 

* * *

 

It’s dinner time, and they still haven’t been back to their room yet. Hermann is growing a little restless and jittery. He’s been on edge since after the wedding, itching to get Newton into his arms while they have at least some semblance of privacy, but if he didn’t know any better, he’d assume Newton is doing everything in his power to avoid that.

 

They’re in the  _ Serene Sunset _ buffet on the top floor of the resort. The walls are almost all windows, and it opens at six pm so guests can view the sun lowering behind the sea while they dine. It’s quite lovely, but Hermann must admit Newton is a much more interesting a sight. Even while he’s shoving a humongous spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. 

 

“You’re gorgeous,” Hermann says dreamily, and Newton nearly chokes on his mashed potatoes. He takes a minute to chew and swallow, multiple times, before smiling back at his husband.

 

“Thanks, hot stuff,” Newt responds with an exaggerated wink. 

 

Hermann takes a sip of his water and hopes the soft glow of the sunset coming through the window beside them will hide the fact his face is turning pink. “After you’re done would you like to--”

  
“Take a nighttime walk on the beach?” Newt butts in. Hermann blinks, and before he can finish what he was about to say, Newt adds, “Yes, that would be lovely, can we do that?”

 

Hermann tries not to focus on the semi disappointed feeling stirring in his stomach as he nods, and leans back in his chair to wait for Newt to finish. He’s certain he can’t be avoiding him. They paid for this trip, and Newt just wants to get the most of out, by doing quite literally  _ everything _ .

 

After they’re done at the buffet, they make their way down to the lobby and follow the path leading to the beach. The sun is fully set, yet it isn’t entirely dark out .  Hermann had agreed to drop off his cane in the room before they set out for the beach, with Newton dragging him out of the room just as fast as they’d entered it. 

 

It is hard to use a cane on sand, so Newt is there to lean on, and he really is, leaning almost all of his side weight on Newt; He doesn’t seem to mind, and lets him grip his forearm tightly, while they walk slow. 

 

There are a few people on the beach, a couple kissing on a towel laid out in the sand, and some kids playing in the water in the distance. Newt moves Hermann’s hand to the wooden pole next to them and he gets down on his knees, helping him out of his shoes, and then removing his own. He allows Hermann to settle comfortably against him again before they walk onto the sand. It feels soft and grainy beneath Hermann’s toes and a ghost of a smile creeps onto his face. They’ve never been to a beach together. In the almost twenty five years they’ve known each other, they’ve never gone together. He’s not even sure if he’s been to one alone in the past thirteen. Hermann takes a deep breath, and allows Newton to lead him to the edge of the water. Hermann gasps when the water laps at his toes, mildly cold. Newt watches the water carefully as it rushes through the crevices of his feet, and then retracts back into itself. 

 

“Am I dreaming?” Newton whispers, bringing his hand over to where Hermann is gripping his arm. The way he asks it sounds rhetorical, and Hermann isn’t sure he should respond. But he’s made a lifetime habit of not being able to shut his mouth when it comes to Newton. 

 

“This is real,” he responds back. “Which is why it’s better than a dream.” Newt’s gaze flickers to his, and Hermann’s breath catches. Newton’s eyes are glistening from the dim light left over from the sunset, and they sparkle a bright sort of green, pupils nearly covering the usually visible brown rings. He hasn’t thought about the Precursors in a long time, weeks, daresay a month. Which was a lot more than he could say for the first few weeks of their relationship after the Precursors were destroyed. Hermann went each day thinking about them. But now, they seem like a forgotten nightmare.

 

A feeling stronger than love washes over him similar to the waves lapping at his ankles. He forgets where he is momentarily as Newt moves a strand of Hair from Hermann’s forehead, gently. “Thanks for hanging in there for ten years so we could have this,” Newt says quietly, and Hermann leans into his touch. “I don’t know where I’d be if everything hadn’t led up to this moment.”

 

Hermann reaches up a hand to rub a thumb across his husband’s cheek, fondly. “Oh, you’d manage.” Before Newt can even react he adds, “You’re the man I fell in love with. Same, old, resilient, Newton Geiszler. The man who fought against the control of an entire alien race, just because he was too stubborn to give them the satisfaction of winning.”

 

Newt grins, and his eyes water. His smile fades just as fast, a different sort of appetite replacing his expression, and he grips Hermann’s face with both hands, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s enthrallingly passionate, yet benign. 

 

Newton pulls Hermann in for an embrace after it ends, and they stay there for an unknown amount of time, Newt’s lips against Hermann’s jaw, and his hands wrapped possessively around his middle.

 

“Let’s go back to the room,” Hermann whispers in his ear, and he can feel Newt shudder and nod, helping him back to the sand, and down to where they left their shoes.

 

* * *

 

Hermann stares one last time out at the ocean from their hotel room balcony, and then shuts the windows, and then the drapes. Newt swallows, looking rigid and nervous where he stands, and Hermann thinks that maybe Newt just needs him to domineer the situation slightly to get him in the mood, so he takes two smooth strides over to his lover, taking him roughly by the collar of his shirt, and lowers him down to the bed. He follows him closely, moving his good knee to the bed, insinuating himself between Newt’s thighs, and successfully straddles Newt who gives a few, labored gasps.

 

They move up the bed slightly so they’re more comfortable, and Newt’s terrified expression remains. Hermann crawls forward cautiously. The expression, and the way Newton is tense in every part of his body is not doing much for Hermann’s own arousal at the moment so he sits back on his heels and voices his concerns.

 

“Newton, what’s wrong? Are you not feeling up to it? You don’t have to feel pressured into doing this,” Hermann reassures, rubbing at his lover’s knee. 

 

Newton’s eyes bug out as if he hadn’t been expecting Hermann to notice his anxious state. “Oh? Really? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood, I’m, um--”

 

He’s having trouble finding the right words, and Hermann takes his hand in his and nearly drops it out of surprise. “Good lord, Newton, you’re shaking.” 

 

“Fuck, Herms, I’m sorry--” Newt says, words coming out slurred and choppy. Hermann shushes him affectionately, helping him sit up so they can speak easily. He rubs his thumbs in circles over Newt’s shoulders. He is swallowing, and his lips are trembling as he begins to speak again. “I’m just nervous.”

 

“It isn’t our first time, Newton,” Hermann replies softly, hoping that it doesn’t come off as patronizing.

 

“Which is why I’m so ashamed, dude,” Newt admits. “This is going to be our first time after our wedding, and I’m so scared of fucking it up. I’m going to fuck it up, I know I am. I’m just so scared of you leaving, and you realizing that our life isn’t going to be all that we built it up to be in our heads.”

 

Hermann feels foolish. This whole day, Newt was probably dreading going back to the room, mortified that their conjunction as a couple was going to come to a grinding halt. He sighs, and runs a hand down the shirt that Newt is still wearing. “This is why you didn’t want to come back to the room, isn’t it.”

 

“I know it’s dumb, Hermann. You don’t need to tell me that. I know. I’m sorry, we can get back to it, I’m just--” He chokes up again. Hermann shakes his head, taking his husband’s face in his hands.

  
“You’re all I’m ever going to need for the rest of my life. I couldn’t care less if you were the worst shag of my life, I waited for you for ten years despite everything pointing me in the opposite direction. Please don’t doubt my ability to love you. Please don’t think sex has anything to do with how I feel about you. I didn’t need sex before I met you, and I don’t need it now. Though, I don’t want you to stop because you’re nervous you’re going to disappoint me.” Newt blinks and yelps in surprise as Hermann kisses him down into the mattress. 

 

“And you aren’t bad at sex, Newton. That’s why I’ve been eager all day to get you all to myself,” Hermann trails a hand down his husband’s chest, and the heavy twitch at his thigh gives him the signal that Newt is back online. “You get me riled up, love.” 

 

Newt smirks, and leans up on his elbows to kiss him. “God you’re literally the fucking best. I don’t know why I was so nervous.”

 

“Because you overthink everything,” Hermann says, nipping at his lips playfully with his teeth. He’s starting to feel warm and overwhelmingly happy again, and feels connected to his husband where Newt rests his hands against his hips. 

 

“Maybe so. Let’s get  _ shagging _ , dude.” 

 

“Only if you agree to never say that again,” Hermann responds, grabbing Newton by the lapels and flipping them over so it was easier on his leg. Newton settles his himself snugly against Hermann’s hips, making sure he isn’t putting too much weight on his bad leg. 

 

“Shagadelic.” Hermann glares at him. “Fine,” Newt says finally with a big smile, swooping down to kiss his husband yet another time.

 

* * *

 

They wake up bright and early to indulge in the resort’s other activities. They have hot tubs, two giant pools with huge slides, one of which they weren’t allowed onto due to their age, but Newton snuck onto anyway. They even have a buffet on one of the lower floors called the Starlight Cafe which is almost in complete darkness, the walls and ceiling covered in stars to simulate space. Hermann enjoyed this one, by far. They had sex again the next night, after their success the first night, and neither of them are nervous about the future.

 

They leave the next morning, suitcases packed and brought down to their rental car by the bellhop. After signing out, the make their way to the airport, board the plane, and fall asleep holding hands on the flight. When they arrive home, they are so exhausted, they collapse on their couch and turn on the news. Nothing new had happened while they were away, and satisfied with his quick two minute rest, Newt pounces up from the couch to make them lunch. Hermann has no idea where he gets all his energy. 

 

After the Precursors, Newton decided to gain some more weight back, along with some muscle, so perhaps his energy is coming from the past few years of constant exercise and indulgements. Hermann can still barely catch his breath, and he feels almost painfully burned by the Bahamas sun, even if he still looks pale as a sheet. 

 

“Remind me to never travel out of the country again,” Hermann grumbles, when Newt brings them back two bologna sandwiches, and Hermann rumbles with amusement at seeing Newt still cuts his own crusts off. 

 

“What about for work?” Newt questions, taking too big of a bite and nearly choking. 

 

“Work’s different, my bones don’t ache because I’m not running around up and down forty levels of a hotel all day,” Hermann responds, picking at stray crumbs on his sandwich. 

 

“Yeah, but did you have fun?” Newt asks with a mouth still full of food. 

 

“Always, with you,” Hermann replies and tries not to laugh when Newt grins through his chewed food. “Even if you are revolting.”

 

“Shut up, you’re a Geiszler slut.” Hermann rolls his eyes and allows Newton to settle on his shoulder as they catch up on one of the shows they had started weeks ago. Tomorrow they could worry about getting back to work, and Hermann could worry about that yearly checkup Newton was forced to have to make sure everything was still checking out in his brain.

 

Hermann interlaces his fingers with Newt’s and tightens his grip.

 

* * *

 

Jake hugs Hermann when he returns to his office once more. “Hermann,” he greets fondly. “”How was your honeymoon?” He gestures for Hermann to sit down, and then leans back against his own desk with his arms crossed, cordial and attentive. 

 

“Wonderful, we’re more than grateful we finally get to share this,” Hermann replies, a little sheepish. Jake nods, obviously joyous about his own relationship. The last time he and Hermann had spoken, which was at his and Newt’s wedding, Jake had admitted to him that he wants to ask Nate to marry him. Newton was overjoyed of course, and Hermann had asked if Nate was ready. Jake said he wasn’t sure, but now Hermann thinks he might give a different answer. 

  
“Have you gotten any further with Nate?” Jake bites his lip and nods. 

 

“I asked him.”

 

“And what did he say?” Hermann doesn’t even need to ask, but he can tell Jake is dying to just scream about this. He knows exactly how he felt when he first got engaged. He feels as if he can connect to Jake’s exact feelings in this moment. 

 

“Yes, of course, he said yes,” Jake smiles up to his ears. “I just, I wasn’t sure he was ready, but I was, and I needed him to know that, and he agreed with me,  Hermann. He said he was feeling the same thing, and we’re really going to--” he takes a breath and sighs, calming himself. “We’re really going to get married.” 

 

“I’m so happy for you, Jake. Your father would be so proud, it would have brought him so much joy.” Jake nods, and Hermann can tell his emotions are swelling up inside of him all too fast. He changes the subject. “I’ll have to give you the contact of our weddings planners, if you need one. They were a big help with invitations, the reception, seating, all that.” 

 

“That would be great thank you.  You’re invited by the way,” Jake adds. “Obviously.”

 

“We’ll be there,” Hermann assures. And that’s when Newt barges into the office, shoving his hands back into his pockets, after he shuts the door.

  
“Hey boys, what’d I miss?” He leans down to kiss Hermann and then rests a hand around his shoulders. “Talking shit behind my back?”

 

“No,” Hermann grumbles, knowing where this is going.

 

“He and your dad,” Newt points to Jake, “used to talk shit about me all the time, so I have to be careful, ya know?” 

 

“That wasn’t talking shit, those were well thought out formal complaints about your behaviour in our workspace and I thought he should know about it, besides that was only for one year before I got used to your irritating chaotic presence in our lab, and no longer complained.”

  
“Before he got a crush on me,” Newt corrects, staring right at Jake who smiles and huffs in amusement. Hermann rolls his eyes, an act he often does around Newton, though that goes without saying. Hermann hadn’t known how much he would miss Newton’s jabs until he was gone and out the door at the end of the war. Now, he cherishes each and every one, though he’s still very partial to bickering.

 

“Before I realized the HR department was going to keep ignoring my complaints and my demands,” Hermann notes, a true correction. He smiles then, “But for our sake, I’m glad they did.” 

 

“Hah, gross,” Newt says, even as he’s rubbing lovingly at the nape of Hermann’s neck. Jake can’t comprehend the amount of love they share between a mere gaze.

 

“You two fit together so awfully and so perfectly, and it’s astonishing,” Jake says. He circles around his desk and grabs a file to slide into his desk.  “I’ll contact you tonight with your work schedules if that works for you, and with the results of your tests today.”

 

“Sounds good,” Newt says, helping Hermann up out of the chair, and hands him his cane. “Thanks for everything, Jake.” 

 

“Of course, Newt.” Jake nods at them when they leave, and Hermann glances back one more times to return his friend’s fond gaze with a warm smile. All is well, and Hermann and Newt can look forward to a valued friend’s wedding. 

 

* * *

 

Hermann is curled up against Newt’s side that same night. He traces the tattoos on Newt’s arm and hums a random tune, while Newt stares at the ceiling taking deep breaths. “Am I ever going to stop loving you?” Newt ponders.

 

Hermann shrugs. “I would sure hope not.”

 

“That’s not a complaint,” Newt assures with the tap of three fingers on Hermann’s spine. “I just can’t believe that each day I get to wake up and be with you, and somehow it’s still the most groundbreaking shit since the first Kaiju attack.”

 

“That is an odd comparison,” Hermann mumbles, kissing languidly up his arm until he settles his head against Newton’s shoulder.

 

“Do you remember when we first met?” 

 

“Yes.” Hermann thinks about it often.

 

“We were so dumb.” It’s all Newton says, but Hermann chuckles and allows his eyes to close. Before he can drift off into sleep, he feels Newt stir beside him. “Hermann?” he whispers.

  
“Mhm?” 

 

“You told me before, way back before you knew what had happened to me. You told me that you still got nightmares,” he says. Hermann opens his eyes and looks up at Newton who is looking down at him like he’s his whole world. He nods, and Newt continues. “I should have asked when we got together if you still get them, if they still bother you.”

 

Hermann blinks, confused and dazed. 

 

“Do you still get nightmares?” Newt repeats more clearly, running a concerned hand up and down Hermann’s spine. Hermann smiles, and finds the situation mildly ironic. He shakes his head, and closes his eyes once more.

 

“No Newton, I haven’t had a nightmare in three years.” 

 

They are quiet after that, and the only sound Hermann can hear as he drifts off to sleep is the clock ticking, the fan swirling, and Newton’s breathing. He sighs, and rests. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for sticking around for this journey! i probably won't be doing another chapter fic like this that attempts to be super canon compliant while also being satisfying angst/fluff wise, but if i do it'll be far into the future. i'm gonna focus on one shots for a while, maybe do a couple for this but idk yet, sorry i'm rambling. again, thank you for reading this and giving so much positive feedback. this is like my baby, and i'm so happy people enjoyed it and appreciate my own hope for the future canon of this franchise <3 you're all beautiful and lovely newmann fans ~ ella (find me at jeffreycombs on tumblr)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the prologue! The next chapters will go as such: Day One, Day Two, Day Three...I don't know how fast or slow the progression of Newton's recovery is going to go but if you wanna stick along for the ride and watch Hermann use every method he knows possible to save the love of his life because it'll warm you're heartsick self from Pacific Rim Uprising, step right up, because I'm writing the rest of this fic because it's making me feel better too.


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